


Taking the dogs home

by Anonymous



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Dogs, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Other, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-04-08 08:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14101020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Magnus starts his new life, testing waters as he goes. (Another installment for The end of the world does come & go/Page of Cups, Reversed.)-He and the dog walk a little further, until the earth dips into a tiny stream that bubbles over the rocks it's uncovered. He finds a large branch caught on one of the stones, and picks it up for her to fetch as he throws it into the taller grasses. It gives a good rhythm to his thoughts.Just one day at a time, like you said. He tugs the stick back after a moment of playing, cocks back his arm and launches it again. She darts off, fast even for a dog her age.He walked here from town in the dead of night. Was he out of spell slots?Retrieve, release, wait.For the third time, he wonders if he shouldn't worry about it. If he shouldn't even worry about worrying about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It shouldn't be entirely necessary to read the other stuff, all you need to know is it stops being canon compliant up to TSG, after which I make things up.
> 
> In a sentence; Lucas invented television, Taako went back to his cooking show and was eventually offered a TV gig down in Goldcliff, which he accepted.
> 
> Previous works;  
> The end of the world does come & go; [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11231763/chapters/25099461)  
> Page of Cups, Reversed; [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11773143)  
> There's also a bonus worldbuilding snippet [here](https://pastebin.com/wYHXeY9T)

Porthaven nestles over its river like a ring on a finger, on the cusp of Faerun's rolling lowlands.

Sometimes a town beckons, the way one feels drawn to a person, or a book, or warm cup of tea. Magnus hadn't felt a pull like that since before everything, and now _after_ everything, it seemed like the right call to answer. He wanted to live here, to be one of the people wearing its cobbled streets smooth with his feet, buying its goods from the market, calling it home.

There were many things that made it a good place; the lumber from the nearby mountains, the fact that the town no longer had a local carpenter. Best of all, there was land for sale up in the hills, acres that stretched across a path of water and into foresting property in the east.

He'd built a cabin there, a summer ago. A place to spend the rest of his life.

 

\--

 

When Magnus sees the flowers, he takes so long to stare at them that the dog begins to whine. He reaches down to ruffle her ears and softly commands her to _sit_ , but indecision keeps him planted there in the street.

 _It's probably just how they look in the sun_ , he thinks. Vivid orange, magenta, splashes of pink and gold with earthy green leaves. It's big, too; a puff of blooms larger than his head in a clear teal vase. Nearly garish, but somehow not. He can't tell what occasion they could possibly be for, besides a celebration of everything spring has to offer.

He has no reason to want them. He stands there anyway, conscious of the foot traffic curving around him. There's not even anyone to admire them at home besides himself-- and the dog, who reminds him she's disinterested. She gives another plaintive huff, pacing the limit of her leash. He has to frequently reposition his feet to keep from getting tangled in the tether.

It wouldn't make any sense to buy them. _Unless you put them in the shop_ , he thinks. Bartering with himself, he follows the idea; They _could_ liven up the place. _And_ , he reasons further, it's supporting local business.

Shadow tugs on her leash again, and he crouches to soothe her with a stroke of his palm.

 _But that's not why you want them_ , says one voice. And another goes, _So what?_

"The vase is enchanted," a voice beside the cart pips. It's a young halfling woman, Susan Ashberry, the oldest daughter of the family whose waterwheel he'd fixed after a storm in the last winter. Her bright smile is as infectious as it is persuasive, and as Magnus stands he finds his hand by his coins even before she starts the pitch; "It'll keep them fresh all month, and you can bring it back later for a discount."

A _discount_. How can he refuse? "How much?"

She grins wider, her smiling face framed by frizzy orange hair. "Twenty silver."

He isn't even sure why he asked. Money isn't the issue, not lately.

He adjusts the leash to his other hand, digging the coins out of his pocket and dropping them into her eagerly cupped palms. The two of them work to adjust the vase safely into his right arm, where the leaves and stems of the bouquet rest along his shoulder. The immediate scent of flowers takes him by surprise, and he breathes in the smell of them slow, savoring and deep. It's sweet and familiar, and with that all the lingering guilt over an indulgent purchase melts away. It hits a neglected spot, and that's justification enough.

Susan returns behind the cart with a bouncing step; it's not until she turns back to face him that her excitement reveals itself for curiosity. " _For_ anybody? We sell cards, too, y'know."

"Nah, uh... just for me," he admits. He figures he can, maybe _\--_ a florist judging him for buying flowers seems bad for business. "The house just needs some color in it, I guess." _Not a lie!_

"Maybe you'll have guests!" She drops the coins to a sound of cheerful plinks in the lockbox and snaps the clasp shut with a click. There's an exchange of thanks, and a call of _Bye, Mr. Burnsides!_ that's warm with a familiarity he almost hadn't expected.

Things still hit him out of the dark, some days. Not all bad. There's a heave of longing, but there's a vase in his arm and a leash in his hand, and cobble under his feet. In a moment, he's soothed again.

Magnus takes his flowers, and betrays his initial plan to leave them in the shop. By the time he reaches where the bridge touches the road to the hills, he commits to taking them home.

 

\---

 

Just outside town, the dog starts to bounce on her feet. He checks over his shoulder for carts coming up the sloping road, but the path carving down to Porthaven is empty. There cradled between the hills, patchwork farms wrap around huddled buildings, steam and smoke crawl from hearths. The bright afternoon sun sparkles off the river even at this distance. He stops for a bit, soaking in the sight as he undoes her leash.

She darts off up the road and veers into rustling grass, a leaping blob of salt and pepper fur lingering occasionally to investigate bushes and trees. The air is warm from the early spring sun, the sky soft and still. The vase, growing heavy in his arm, holds all the colors of the wildflowers peppering the side of the valley.

He starts up walking again, whistling occasionally to summon the dog back to the road, and she gets a piece of jerky from his pocket each time for the trouble.

Shadow is a young dog, with a naturally good demeanor. He probably still has a few weeks to get her manners down, but it's the safety calls that are most important, and every time he whistles she perks her head and ears up over the field, bounding back to his side on the road and careening around him with wild energy-- he humors her playful tussling as much as he can, with a vase full of flowers in one arm. Eventually she tires enough that she stays content to trot, panting at his side, occasionally sniffing at the hoof-prints and cart tracks that mark the road.

When they're home, the sun is leaning harshly to the west, setting against his back. The light is warm and golden on his shoulders as he unlocks the door to the house, and Shadow slips quickly inside to a patter of dog feet on hardwood, while he eases his out of his boots.

"Home sweet home," he mutters. The shoes go on the mat beside the door, and he steps into his sturdy cabin home, hurrying the vase to the counter. He shakes out his sore arm, takes in the sight of the flowers in the light of the sunset, and lets out a soft sigh.

Shadow trots back and sniffs at his hand, curious. It pulls him out of his sulking, the way it always seems to. "Yeah, yeah. Time for dinner."

The evening errands only take up as much time as they can; her dinner is pre-made, and it only takes him a moment to decide on two cuts of beef to thaw, based on his appetite. Food in the oven, dog fed, he settles down in one of the chairs by the living room. The flowers are right where he left them, sitting in a patch of square light from the windows, and now he has no choice but to answer for them.

All they do is fill him with a gentle longing, which isn't his favorite thing to feel. It forces him to think about the future, which long ago had been unbearable, and now was-- a mix of worrisome, and exciting. And _new_. But more than any of that, the scent of flowers filled him with fondness. _Lean in to it,_ he tells himself. So he does.

Some things you have to get back in stages, he thinks. This is one of them, and he wonders how close he is to the next plateau.

The dog finishes her meal, comes by to sniff his hands & beg for more jerky, and when he shows her empty palms and apologizes in a gentle voice, she rolls over by his feet. He gives her belly a rub and a firm few pats, sighing at himself.

"The house was missing someting, alright?" The house is _still_ missing something, but Shadow has nothing else to offer besides a whine as he reclaims his hand. He gets up, and decides to fetch one of the projects from the work room. Might as well get something done, while he waits for dinner.

 

\--

 

He has his tools spread out amongst wood shavings on the tarp in the middle of the house, the dog curled contentedly in her bed and the sky freshly dark by the time someone knocks on the door.

Instinct is still strong, and he tenses, considering railsplitter hung on the wall in his bedroom. Perhaps sensing his unease, Shadow lifts her head with straight ears and a stern, focused gaze. Magnus eases her with a gesture, sets down his tools, dusting his hands as he walks to the door.

When he opens it, there's a familiar golden braid down the back of a figure turned away, scanning the last light of the evening.

Magnus can't help himself; he surges forward and wraps an arm around Taako's torso, loosening his grip after the first protesting squawk-- but Taako only turns around to lean into a second hug, lifting his arms to hook around Magnus' shoulders. A kiss plants on his cheek, wet enough with chapstick to be freshly applied. " _Heyyy_ , buddy!"

"You're _back_ ," Magnus breathes out, pulling back away. He soaks in the sight of him in lamplight, all gold and glowing, and can't seem to pull his hands from the elf's shoulder and waist. His eyes trace every detail like he's trying to commit them, now. "...What are you _doing_ here?"

Taako snickers, hiding his mouth. He sways a bit where he stands, and that's the first moment Magnus recognizes the scent of alcohol, and the looseness of the elf's posture. "Ehh, well--! I got some time off, and I thought, you know..." He walks a pair of fingertips up one of Magnus' biceps, nearly losing his balance. Magnus steadies him, almost too enamored to worry. "I'd surprise you!"

"I'm surprised!" He agrees. Then adds, "You're drunk," a shadow of concern creeping into his eagerness. He looks out into the night through the door, and down to the mud on Taako's shoes, and frowns gently. "...Did you _walk_ here? From _where_?"

"Oh, yeah, uh, sad story-- forgot how to even find this place in the _dark_. Why'd you have to build it so _far_ , Maggie?" Taako lets himself in; Magnus opens out of the way, but hovers close enough to catch the wizard if he falls, inadvertently trapping him in an arm. Taako leans heavily into it, from either want or disguised necessity. "Sssso I stopped by the tavern for directions, and once that clever bartender knew I was here for _Magnus Burnsides_ , Oof! He refused to let me go without a little hospitality. Ugh. I got, uh-- got tipsy, y'know, forgot the way was so long. Didn't think to hire a buggy. _Classic_ Taako."

The oddness of the story nags on him, but only for a moment. That's as long as it has, before Shadow bounds up beside them and rears up to put her paws on Taako's front.

The elf jumps and scatters, and he quickly puts himself between them, eases her back down and a safer distance away. He turns his attention as soon as he can, looking back up apologetically. _Whoops._

Taako's frightened posture hangs a moment longer before it drops, with an accepting sigh and acknowledging frown. "...You got a _dog."_

He grins sheepishly, having been thoroughly caught. "I'm sorry, I know I said I'd talk to you about it--" He looks from the elf back to her, where she sits with her tail wagging, her mouth open in a canine grin, legs coiled for a second leap. _Strangers!_ She loves them, is all. "But the farmers next door, the puppies I told you about-- they were finally getting too old to keep, and I just thought-- I'd keep her for a while, to see if she was a good dog, you know?" He pets the soft scruff of fur on her neck, still feeling a little guilty. Taako hangs by the door, wary and reluctant.

He hasn't had to beg _can I keep her?_ Since he was a child. He feels just as desperate now, for other reasons, some that are hiding from him. For all the aching his heart likes to do lately, he wishes it any of it would let him know what's going on.

Finally, Taako melts. "Well, is she?"

Magnus blinks. "Huh?"

"A good dog."

He beams. "Oh, yeah! Great temperment. Dogs her age, usually they're anxious, but-- uh, she's. She's great, Taako. Steady." He claps her ribs gently, finds himself stumbling and a bit unsure _._ He changes the collar between hands, pets down the fur of her side. "She comes when I call, now. I don't even need the leash when I walk her home. She's only a year old-- she'll get better about the jumping, I promise. She already knew how to sit and stay, you know-- she's smart. She'll pick up quick."

Taako listens patiently, or drunkenly, until his hand finally falls from his mouth-- he'd been hiding his lips in the way he does when he thinks. He sways down to crouch by Magnus' side, reaching out to offer a hand for Shadow to sniff. Magnus keeps a grip on her collar tight and holds his breath as she tugs forward to puff in nosefulls of elf, which she apparently finds agreeable, because she immediately licks his fingers. Taako giggles, and Magnus lets the breath escape in a quiet _woosh_.

"Yeah," Taako admits, leaning into Magnus' side. _Oh._ His whole body seems to rush warm from the contact, hungry and yearning for more right away, so he nearly melts when Taako slings an arm around his waist. A slight thumb draws over his side repeatedly, and then he really does melt. "Can't really expect you to sit up here by yourself all day," he confesses with a sigh, and a tone of remorse just slightly too genuine. "As long as she's a _good_ dog."

"She's a _very_ good dog," he insists. Seemingly pleased, Taako pats her on the head and rights himself up from the floor, wandering to examine the state of the home. Magnus holds the dog, watching Taako as he daintily nudges one of the tools left on the floor with his foot. He tuts gently, folding each slight hand into tiny fists against his hips.

"Still taking your work home with you, mags." he says softly. He pauses by the flowers, smirking, offering back a glance that seems to know and ask all the same.

Then he stops, ears twitching. "What's that smell?"

Magnus blinks aware, and heaves up to hurry into the kitchen. Taako floats behind, hanging by the counter with bemusement while Magnus fetches a mitt and pulls dinner from the oven-- he sighs down at the crispy steaks, not charred, but _definitely_ overdone.

He looks to Taako, who calmly surveys the kitchen for something he apparently finds missing. " _That's_ all you're cooking? Gosh, I leave you alone for a couple weeks and you go back to living like a _bachelor_."

"Four weeks," he corrects, and suddenly has to abandon the meat on the stovetop, because saying it out loud is the end of it. It heaves up out of his belly into his throat, and he comes up and surrounds Taako in his arms, pulling him slowly against his chest in a grip he worries may be too tight.

Taako starts to stiffen, as he sometimes will, so Magnus stops. But in a moment longer Taako is holding him in return, cheek nuzzled down against his shoulder.

He doesn't mean to be desperate. But with permission, he wraps him up, because by now he knows when Taako wants the sort of hug that's warm and encircling, gently squeezing. He buries his face in golden hair and breathes deep, slow, savoring the light scent of flowers from his shampoo, feeling each breath fill Taako's chest in his arms as it comes in, feels it hush out against the skin of his shoulder. His heart swells, and aches, and somewhere below him Shadow's claws click on the wooden floor as she pads around in search of burnt steak.

"I missed you," he says, still reluctant to let go. Taako is so _close_ , and he hopes it isn't a dream. But Taako feels real, and solid enough to hold tight, at least for a little while. "...How much time do you have off?"

"A couple days," Taako mutters. Something in his voice sounds sad, and he doesn't look up as he peels away from the embrace-- Magnus lets him go, but stares after his retreat into the kitchen. “...Hey. Lemme fix that.”

“You don't have to--”

A waved hand dismisses him. He's halfway to suggesting Taako sit down with a glass of water, instead, but stops once he watches him settle naturally into a routine he's seen before; taking down spices, pulling a pan out from under the cupboard. There's a special kind of magic in witnessing the muscle memory at work, seemingly impervious to inebriation or exhaustion. There's something else that stirs, watching the kitchen he built used the way he'd hoped for.

"Let me salvage dinner first, and then I can tell you _everything_."

He lights back up. " _Please._ It's gotta be _amazing_ there."

"It's no wonderland," he quips, digging vegetables out of the crisper. _And thank god for that,_ he thinks, grateful they can laugh about it. About so many things.

In a few minutes they're on the couch, each with a plate in their hands, and he's laughing along to some story Taako weaves about a co worker and an errant fantasy boom mic, whatever that is. The details of Goldcliff are thrilling, hypnotic, but they're glazing over him; he keeps drifting back to the fact that Taako's home, hanging comfortably off of every gesture and word. He still smells like night and sweat from the walk up the hill, and now of the seasoning that had saved dinner. His voice melts between words, since he's helping himself to another glass of wine. The bronze of his skin in firelight, the bright magenta of his nails, the cream of his shirt and stockings. Green and teal eyeshadow. Bubbling with laughter and happiness and pride.

"Hey," he offers, interrupting a story about a director and a glass of orange juice. "Are your feet sore from the walk?"

Taako groans in confirmation, but grins like a fox. "I thought you'd _never_ ask."

As he works, the room goes quieter, till it's only the ticking of the clock and the crackling of the hearth. Shadow curls up on the couch at his left-- it's thoroughly past her usual bedtime-- and all of Taako's stories are soon spent, leaving him in a content silence interrupted by hums of pleasure.

This is Taako, too. A rarer Taako, one he's quietly grateful to know. Sated, unworried, sly and wise and-- though he's sure he'd never hear the end of it, saying so-- sweet. Old. Almost a hundred and twenty, this year. He can forget that sometimes. But it's easier to remember things like that as the flurry of him stills, quiets, relaxes. Slack there on his couch, eyes closed and limbs loose.

The motions of his hands slow, until he stops entirely. “Taako?”

“Hmm?” comes a hum, fuzzy and content-- and he thinks for a moment he shouldn't interrupt this.  
  
“It's just.” He tries to find his way to the question-- when did it become so hard to talk about? “...Why didn't you call?”

He regrets asking right away. He hasn't decided how much he thinks he has a right to know. More than that, it makes Taako's ears wilt as his eyes blink open, and he hadn't meant for that. He's about to take it back, when the answer comes in a voice more gentle than he expects.

“I'm sorry, mags.” Taako assuages. “...Lydia wasn't lying. They ran me pretty hard over there.”

He deflates in a kind of relief. How had he gotten so bad at this, over the years? Had he ever been any good at it?

“No, no, sorry,” he promises. He rubs at Taako's feet again. He feels he owes him something, so he offers up what's been sitting in his mind since the first week the farstone had been silent. “I thought for a while it might have been what we talked about.” He pauses, works on his language, because Taako has already had a long day. A long few weeks, from the sound of it. “...If you figured this works better without us, you know. Whatever you have to do.”

He remembers their conversation on this very couch. That things were changing, and if he had to make a choice that was better for him, he should feel welcome to it.

Taako's pupils flare, and he shifts woozily from the arm of the couch. It seems to stump him. He visibly fumbles, blinking through inebriation, looking surprised and a little cowed. A little _frightened_.

The fear he thinks he sees is gone in moments, replaced by a smile and a baring of his palms. “...Maggie, if that were true... why would I be here?”

That hits him like an wave, for how obvious it is. He exhales, and has to laugh at himself, meeting a palm to his brow. Taako smiles again, and just like that it's fine.

Soon Taako withdraws his legs to curl up by his side. His heart thrums again in answer; he lifts his arm to let the elf nestle down, and wraps it back around him with a surge of satisfaction. Above the hearth, the screen of farscry shows oracles casting bones to predict tomorrow's weather. Sunny, he thinks, though their voices are too muted to make out.

"When's your show airing?"

Taako's shoulders go stiff and then roll under his arm. "Hmm... mid summer, all goes well."

"It will. I know it." He pecks a kiss down on Taako's forehead, and the tension he thought he'd felt is gone. "Proud of you, you know?"

Taako doesn't answer. His arm lifts from around Magnus' waist, fidgeting slowly with the hem of his tunic. "Can we not talk about it? I'm _pooped_ , bubale. Sick of work. 'Schwhy I came home to _you_."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." He adjusts his arm around Taako a little more snugly, and rubs his cheek against his hair. One of Taako's ears twitches and thwaps lightly against his throat, and he smiles at the sensation. It's little things like this that he misses. Taako burrows deep into the embrace, and he makes himself warmer and softer around the elf, unable to think of anywhere better to be in the world than where he is right now.

Taako mutters something unintelligible, and settles into a silence that after a few minutes Magnus is sure is sleep. It's just him, between a warm lump of sleeping dog and a bundle of sleeping wizard. He soaks it in like sunlight, carefully stroking Taako's back with his thumb.

He looks back and forth between them, before becoming overcome with mischief and gently blowing on each of their ears, first Shadow's, then Taako's. Both give a little twitch under the stimulus, and that finally splits his contented smile into a grin. He turns off the farscreen, shuts his eyes, and stays there perfectly content.

Almost perfectly.

Something is still odd, but full and tired and comfortable he can't seem to pull it together; Taako is so warm beside him, and safe, and that's all he needs to know.

But the thought persists until it's clear; the tavern, and it's so _late_ , and he'd _walked_...

He tries to dispell the nagging. Again, none of his business. Taako was ever-changing, often inexplicable and _hated_ being needled. There was no reason to pry unless he thought the man to be in some kind of danger.

He frowns a little in thought, then feels guilty for spoiling his own evening like this. Instead he sighs, settles a palm over the elf's shoulder protectively, and lolls his head back onto the couch to try and sleep.

He wakes to Taako tugging gently on his shirt. When he looks, the wizard is wiping a spot of drool from his mouth, and something about _that_  of all things is such a weird, domestic delight it stuns him. "Hey. Take me to bed, mags."

Thrilled, he immediately checks his impulses; "Are you sure? I can take the couch, if it'll help you sleep. You're tired."

"Missed you," Taako mutters, and that strikes deep, into raw and hungry places. "Wanna know you're there, all warm 'n stuff. C'mon."

Well. He doesn't need to be told twice.

Taako fits easily in his arms, and the weight of him dangling there is so pleasant he almost doesn't want to put him down when they reach the bed. Taako seems similarly reluctant, clinging arms around his shoulders, pulling him down into a kiss that lingers.

"I'm gonna clean up," he explains. Taako whines faintly, but unlinks his hands from the back of Magnus' neck, and wriggles down into comfort against the mattress and pillows with a familiarity and ease that makes Magnus swell again. He holds onto that feeling, leaving to tend to the dishes, the tools, the dog....

Shadow gets her bed moved to outside the door, in the hall. He doesn't want the presence of a strange animal to make Taako nervous, and more than that, he doesn't want to be caught letting her curl up on the foot of the bed as he had been during the spring thunderstorms.

"You be good out here, okay?" he says, petting back her ears. She still eyes him with a look of worry. He placates her with a scrap of the meat from dinner, and retires to his room.

Just seeing Taako lying there is good enough, but crawling into bed next to him is _heaven._ He pulls the blankets over both of them, makes sure to tuck them back down around Taako, and puts his arm over the sheets to lay over and around Taako's waist. Barely still awake, Taako hums and wriggles for closeness, till his head is under Magnus' chin and he can feel the elf's breath puffing softly against his collar, a rhythm of warm air that says as much as anything that Taako is _here,_ he's alive. There's a few more soft hums, rolls of a shoulder that coerce Magnus' arm to hold around him tighter, and then they're _together._ He can't help but be overcome in relief by it, and that sends his thoughts unraveling, waving like loose spider's thread in a breeze. For a blissful moment, he's not at war with himself, and he's not unsure about anything.

The dog scratches at the door, once or twice, and he's almost too tired to feel bad. The tap of claws tells him she's returning to her bed. He sighs in relief, and holds Taako a little tighter.

In this moment, he is so happy, and so warm, that any worry Taako had given him in the evening is far too distant in his mind to keep him awake.

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't work on this for a year and was sort of in a rush to finally get it out, let me know if I missed something or if you have suggestions! Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you gotta write a chapter where practically nothing happens except breakfast and brushing cows.

Mornings used to cut him like a knife.

Day hasn't broken, and the light in the curtains is dull and blue as water. Magnus comes into awareness of it slowly and in numb degrees. The house sits around him like a turtle's shell, or a mountain over a cave, and that heaviness feels like a boundary that can keep the rest of time at bay. Like if he doesn't move from this spot, the hour will stay with him.

He checks, and Taako is still there, fast asleep and unmoving. He makes the appreciative breath he draws in silent, and privately savors the scents of shampoo, cinnamon, of salt and sweat beneath that.

A pang comes with it, like the toll of a bell. But if he holds still and waits, it passes.

Taako's back is warm under his cheek, and threads of of golden hair catch in the coil of his sideburns. His breathing is slow, and his side sinks up and down against the bulk of Magnus' chest. He's just beginning to remember the night before in whole when scratching resumes at the door, and this time he rouses to answer with a sigh.

“I'm up, I'm up,” he mutters out of habit. It's easier to do when someone is asking.

The first step is to put aside two fantasy advil and a glass of water for him, when he wakes. He pauses to watch him sleeping, using fresh indecision as an excuse.

_Do I leave a note? Does he need one? Will he even wake up before I get back?_ He decides to skip it. He doesn't need to  _corner_ him, of all things.

All the same, he stays. Taako's golden hair falls in his eyes, his hands curled against the pillows. He looks content, or something more than that. It's like he watches through himself as he grazes his knuckles once, slowly, down Taako's shoulder over the silk of his blouse. Magnus measures the lump in his throat, and knowing Taako would brush off this kind of sentimentality if he were awake, guiltily withdraws his fingers.

He's  _here,_ and that's still a balm. More than he'd thought it'd be. Maybe he just wants to sit here, watching his serene face and his breathing, but that's creepy even for a boyfriend-- he's turning ridiculous, so he hurries to get himself dressed and outside where the cool air might set him right again.

Shadow darts at a mass of sparrows in the field as soon as she's free. He follows her out past the porch in steps, watching his breath come up in thin plumes in ways that remind him of worse things.

Around the cabin, hills sit in little sleeping piles, like frozen waves in the sea. He can't see the valley from here, but behind the house the land reaches up until it curves into woods, and somewhere, bleeds up into the mountains on the horizon. He breathes in the cold knowing it reaches all the way up to the still dark sky-- already there are little breaks of deep blue in the gray clouds, hinting at the sunny day the oracles promised.

He and the dog walk a little further, until the earth dips into a tiny stream that bubbles over the rocks it's uncovered. He finds a large branch caught on one of the stones, and picks it up for Shadow to fetch as he throws it into the taller grasses.

It gives a good rhythm to his thoughts.

_Just one day at a time, like you said._ He tugs the stick back after a moment of playing, cocks back his arm and launches it again. She darts off, fast even for a dog her age.

_He walked here in the dead of night. Was he out of spell slots?_ Retrieve, release, wait.

Again, he wonders if he shouldn't worry about it. If he shouldn't even worry about worrying about it.

A few more times, and she doesn't give the stick back, staying outside of his reach. She drops it into the grass and falls beside it, panting in huge lungfuls of breath in audible huffs that fill her chest like a big drum.

“Yeah. Me too, girl.”

He sits down there in the field to give her a minute to rest, watching the blue of the morning turn to silver. He breathes in, and out, and lies back so dewy grass prickles against the back of his head, and the cloud cover forms a blank canvas of gray.

Up the hill, Taako is lying there in his bed, which has happened before-- but not enough times where he's figured out exactly what to feel about it.

“I wish I could still ask you about things,” he mutters. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine the answer, but each day it's quieter. Today, he hears nothing at all.

He blinks open, scratching his fingers against each other on his belly, thinking  _I should probably let her rest, anyway_ before Shadow comes to investigate by sniffing along his collar and face. He sputters and eases her back, sitting back up and rising slowly over the bad knee, and the two of them walk back to the house.

 

\---

 

Taako is standing at the counter when he returns, a mug held against his forehead off a two-fingered grip. Magnus smiles, and the elf smiles back with tired eyes and lips. He makes a noise like a strained hum before he speaks; “Mornin', chump.”

“Hey,” he answers, grinning while he tugs off his boots. Shadow patters into the kitchen before he can stop her, sniffing at Taako's calves and the robust scent of brewing coffee in the air. “How are you feeling?”  

“ 'S not that bad,” he answers, though he closes his eyes against the chill of the porcelain against his temple. Magnus' heart tugs insistently, but he hangs back, wary at the urge to rush forward and soothe a headache with kissing.

“...Coffee?”

Taako turns the empty mug upside down. “Soon. You want a cup?”

“Thanks,” he answers. His heart pounds at him, at something so simple he questions it.

He still isn't sure what to do. Taking a guess, he makes the short walk to the kitchen to wrap his arms around him again, leaning down to rest lips to his crown. Taako hums, nestles awkwardly into his arms, and seems to hunt the silence. “You want breakfast?”

“You made dinner, I'll do breakfast.” He takes the mug from Taako's hand, setting it down beside where the machine bubbles and brews. “You wanna sit down?”

“Don't spoil me,” he warns, though he lingers a bit in Magnus' arms in a way that he hasn't before.

It's only a moment-- but moments are  _enough_ , lately, to get him wondering. Then he's making his way around the counter, pausing at the large bouquet of flowers. Once again Magnus feels like he's been caught.

“Someone give you these?” he asks, flicking a bloom with his fingers. The little puff of sky blue bobs and dances merrily. “You save a kitty or something? Pull some orphans out of the fire?”

“No,” he laughs. “No kittens, I bought them... Kind of an impulse.”

“Didn't know you were into flowers,” he notes. Magnus watches as he delicately tugs away one of the small magenta blossoms, tucks the stem behind his ear and lids his eyes in a little joke. His heart doesn't take it as a joke, that or the satisfied look in Taako's expression as he makes his way around the counter to perch in one of the bar stools.

He's pulled back into the moment as the machine hisses and sputters, and breakfast is once more the immediate issue.  _Right._

He starts with the coffee. Taako takes his with one spoon of sugar and just enough cream to cover it, poured near to the brim while the bacon and eggs start in the pan.

“ _Ohhhh_ , iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou,” he chitters, taking his mug in both hands. Magnus laughs, because it's funny, but can't help the lingering concern from bubbling out of his throat.

“Did you drink all the water?” he asks, pursing his lips after in worry he's being smothering.  _Easy, Burnsides._

“You my nurse now?” Taako quips. But quiet, after, like he's not sure if he meant to say it.

“Guess I am,” he answers, leaning in to kiss Taako's temple. And the little arc of satisfaction it seems to put into Taako's spine is reassurance enough.

He didn't expect to have to find his way through these sorts of things again. He was probably fooling himself to think they wouldn't have to. He's spending half of his time realizing the puzzle is even in front of him, before he knows what to do-- and too quickly, the moment is gone, and Taako is fine, needing nothing from him.

Shadow whines for her breakfast, worried over the change in routine. As he leans away to answer, Taako calls after; “You'd be cute in the outfit.”

–-

Shadow's breakfast is boiled lentils and cubes of baked chicken, cuts of carrots and a tiny drizzling of the bacon grease, with the leftovers packaged for her dinner in the evening.

“You cook better for your dog than yourself,” Taako notes, between bites of his eggs and toast. He seems to be perking out of the ragged state he'd come home in, eating with gusto and settling awake.

Shadow munches on her own food with similar contentment, and Magnus privately savors having his home like this, like he hasn't had in an amount of time he'd rather not think about.

“She's a young dog. Diet is important!”

Taako nods, conceding while he chews. Once his mouth is clear, he asks a question; “So, are you working today?”

He shakes his head while plating an egg onto his own slice of bread. “I close the shop on Thursdays. Usually just to get stuff done up here.”

“Really?” The question is followed by a puffing exhale, as Taako lifts his mug to his lips. “Small towns, I'll tell ya.”

“A lot of folks do it! There's not enough people around to stay open for.” He punctuates it with a shrug, hoping Porthaven isn't someplace Taako doesn't like. He knows it's out of step with the elf's bustling lifestyle, knows it can't compare to the shiny new towers and cafes and restaurants. “Need time to run our own gardens and stuff out here, too. Can't import everything.”

Taako nods while he sips and swallows another mouthful. “Hmm. You gonna garden?”

“Thinking about it,” he answers truthfully. The plot is marked but unfinished in the back yard, and he hasn't yet employed any of the advice Merle gave him about planting, spring vegetables, or the deadline for the season that he's sure is fast approaching.

“That's cute. Makin' yourself all homey up here. I can just see you with tomatoes, 'n the gloves.” He sips again, heartily, and Magnus tries not to stare at him savoring it. “You're so domestic. Real old school.”

“Is that bad?”

“No,” he smiles. Where he'd expect something more, Taako changes the subject. “...So, what were you gonna get up to today?” Taako prompts, flicking a gaze up and down him.

Again, he's surprised at how his body reacts. He feels it go over him like a paintbrush, like it would if he were a much younger man. He can't even remember Taako having that effect on him until recently, his charms growing steadily more powerful with familiarity.

“...I was thinking of going up into the hills,” he says after a steadying gulp, gesturing as if the woods could be seen from the kitchen. “We had a storm blow in a night ago, I was gonna look for fallen lumber.”

“Too much work to chop it down?”

He shakes his head. “You can't fell trees in the nesting season. Plus, it's lucky that way.”

“Is it?”

“Steven always said so--”

And he barely has time to steer himself away from that, or to brace for the impact. It comes heavy and hurtful like a blunt strike from inside of him going out. But it's not as bad as he remembers. “...He'd only use it for special things, though. Gifts and stuff, I don't know if we ever sold it.”

Taako doesn't say anything. He does reach out and rest just the pads of his fingers on Magnus' arm, then his palm. He rubs in a way that's too invigorating to be gentle. With a bit of a shock he realizes it's meant to be comforting, he knows, and the effort alone goes as far as finesse would have.

“...But we can stay, if you want.” he continues. He isn't just trying to escape from the subject, either; the idea of lounging around with Taako all day is a tiny heaven. He's normally only ever gotten him for an evening at a time, with the days interrupted by work, or packing, or travel, or filled with chatter or-- the physical  _equivalent_  of chatter.

“...Why don't I come with?” Taako offers, tracing a finger in circles around the lip of his now empty mug. “Help you lug it home?”

“Really?”

“I  _fucking insist_ ,” He grins, meets his palms together. “I feel like I haven't seen a tree in years. Just let me change out of....”

And then he stops, and Magnus looks down to his silk shirt and stockings still rumpled from sleep. He puzzles, but figures it out as soon as Taako speaks again.

“Um,” Taako pauses, stumbles, cracks a weird and faltering smile. “...I. Whoops. Didn't pack anything.”

It's true, he realizes, dumbstruck. Taako had shown up with nothing more than the clothes on his back and his muddy boots, without even a bag or wallet. Who knows how far he'd gone that way. Taako looks at him  _now_ a little hopelessly, as if he's been caught in something. And  _yeah_ , sure. But Magnus can't imagine at all what  _in,_ or what it would be that he wouldn't mention-- or, for the life of him, what he's supposed to  _do_  with the information.

Doing anything is better than watching him look like that, though. “...You have a drawer,” he tells him, though it feels like his voice acts on its own.

Taako's expression changes into a surprise of a subtly different kind. “I. Huh?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “In my room, I'll show you.”

He leads Taako there, with the dog following close behind. He's only a little embarrassed to pull open a drawer on the far side dresser, filled with Taako's things-- scarves, shirts, stockings, all folded with care and arranged neatly. He's struck with the memory of how it felt to find each new thing left behind, draped over a chair or at the bottom of the hamper, to wash it, fold it, tuck away a piece of Taako's presence for later.

When he looks up, he's not sure what he'll find. Taako is guarding his mouth with his knuckles as if he might chew on them, tracing the drawer's contents with his eyes, and only speaks when he notices Magus watching him.

“I-” he fumbles. “None of it's any good for mountaineering, hun. But it's clean.” And he seems to stabilize, though from the edge of what, he still can't get a bead on. “I can transmute it, it's good. Yeah, it'll work.”

Relief rolls through him, probably unearned. But he'll take what he can get, including the soothing sight of an empty pill pocket and half-drunk glass of water on the nightstand.

 

–-

 

He's cleaning up breakfast while Taako showers, and trying, and  _failing_  not to think about it.

You could charge into a horde of goblins, but by comparison Taako was a cloud of smoke that would dissipate around you. So he points his questions at himself; why hadn't he noticed? What  _else_  wasn't he noticing? Was he supposed to do something-- something Taako wasn't asking for, something that might not even be any of his  _business._ If he let it be, would it feel like respect, or neglectful disinterest? If he decided to press the issue, how far would be too far?

Taako emerges before he has time to come to any useful conclusions. And once he sees him smiling carelessly, renewed and with his hair still damp, it seems hard to remember the look that had been on him a moment ago. In fact, when he sees the tall V of warm skin under plunging, maroon cotton, it's hard to remember  _anything._

“Like what you see?” Taako plays. More genuine, to the point where tension releases somewhere in his middle. He blushes but grins, returning his focus to the plates that he cleans.

 

–-

 

Magnus locks the back door behind them as they step into the yard. When he turns, Taako is already bounding off the steps into the grass, but freezes as something catches his eye.

“Betsies!” he shouts, greeting the two work cows grazing at the end of their pasture. They glance and chew stoically as he trots to meet them by the fence, and Magnus watches from afar as the elf's hands reach through the rails to ruffle their short fur.  _Betsy_ and  _Betsy Two, the sequel to Betsy_  lift their heads and moo in recognition, searching his palms for treats or breakfast. “Did you miss me, girls? Maggie takin' good care of you?”

Magnus fetches their hay and buckets of grain and oilseed, and hefts each flake over the fence towards the center of the pasture where frequent hoof-falls haven't turned the ground muddy. By the time he lifts the second and prepares to throw, he catches Taako eying him appreciatively, and it puts another glow in his chest.

“They look good,” Taako notes as the second flake makes its arc, and as Betsy-Two trots her way to the meal. There's a contentment in the words that he doesn't want to interrupt, nor the moment Taako spends gazing at him like he's looking at something wonderful. Like a sunset is wonderful at the end of a long day.

Taako's eyes flick past him in a moment, resting on something by the house. “Oh, Maggie. You haven't sold that yet?”

He turns to look. The wagon– Taako's wagon, the same one he'd used to tour in the year between their adventuring and his renewed stardom– remains parked by the wall of the hay shelter. The logo peeks out beneath the bottom of the tarp, in purple paint that still looks fresh.

“Oh, just...” he pauses, not sure how to say what he means. “I haven't known how to start with it.”

“Just talk around,” Taako coaches. “See who needs a cart full of old junk.”

“But you put so much work into it!” he blurts, revealing why it stays here in the yard. A little piece of Taako's efforts, patched together over months and months and lived in, and full of him in a way.

He hadn't ever gone inside without him, not even after Taako had left the wagon and cows behind in his care. But he's thought about it often enough it almost feels like he has, like he can imagine bowing under the low roof and tracing his fingers over the knobs of the cupboard, or the cutlery, or the handle for the fold-out bed, feeling closer to all the parts of Taako that feel like a mystery.

If the elf sees through it, he's polite enough not to mention. He just smiles, reaching out to clap Magnus' shoulder before he goes to lift the grain buckets out of the barrow. Betsy and her sister are already wandering back to the fenceposts.

“It's yours, Maggie, but at least get some use out of the thing. Lords know I'm done with it.”

He stirs out of his thoughts. “You think you might ever do tours again?”

Taako shakes his head, maybe a little wistful. He pets the cows, surprisingly tender in how his thumb traces through the short curls of their forelock. “...New era for Taako, my man. Sometimes it's time to leave it behind.”

The sentence has all of the weight of the show behind it, all the things Magnus knows and doesn't know about the years and years, decades Taako had spent traveling and cooking and saving, pulling the show into existence out of the scraps life afforded him. Good and bad, and permanently in the past.

“I know,” he says softly. In the gray light, he can see the weathered features hinting into the corners of Taako's eyes, a few pockmarks and scars. Those found him before the time it takes them to find most elves, he's gathered. But it was still a great deal of time, an amount he thinks he's coming to understand by degrees.

Taako grins, that same tired smile. Then he plucks the curry brushes off of the wheelbarrow's side. “You brush em?”

“Every day,” he answers. Taako tosses him one and slips through the fence. He follows, and the two of them are standing, brushing the cattle chewing their grain. Shadow whines on the end of her run by the door, the birds in the far trees chirp among themselves and the rest of the morning breaks around them while they slip into a meditative silence. It's soothing, to the point where he only feels a specter of the kind of hopelessness that seems to have tried to follow him into the hills.

He doesn't think of that too much. Not usually, and not now while thinking that this kind of morning-- this kind of life-- is the kind he could stand to have more of.

“Watcha thinkin 'bout?” Taako prompts. In the way where it's clear he doesn't expect anything back, not really.

“This is nice,” he says. Suddenly bashful to the point where he doesn't want to say the rest. Taako smiles over the back of Betsy-Two, and he likes that. He likes all of it.

“Thank you,” Taako says. Soft, earnest, in a way that draws his focus. “For taking care of them for me.”

“Of course.” He wants it to be obvious, or needs it to be. “Anytime, Taako. I mean it.”

“Course you do,” He says it not so that it sounds like teasing, but maybe like it was supposed to. He watches as Taako dumps the comb into the empty bucket and hefts both up against his hip. He pats Betsy-Two on her sturdy neck and escapes through the fence, returning to the yard. “C'mon, let's go get some wood.”

Mystery probably isn't the right word for him, Magnus thinks as he puts the equipment away. He just doesn't have any better words to use. And that's fine, he decides. Whatever it is, he loves him deeply, and that's enough for the next moment, and the next. They have time for the rest.

\---


	3. Chapter 3

"You bought this place?" Taako asks, shortly into their hike.

  
The hills are a manageable stair of forest under the watch of an eastern mountain, at the end of a crescent chain that forks south before it arcs north in the shape of a tiefling's tail. Distant peaks, greater than what the locals call the nearby _Clawthorn_ , rise over the dawn horizon on clear days. As they gain elevation Magnus can spot glimpses of far-away snowcaps between the red pillars of thick old trees, and wonders if the feeling he has for the distance is right; that it might be sixty or a hundred times the width of this forest to the distance of those mountains.

  
The property was wild country, full of sounds he could hear from the cabin on sleepless nights. The howling of wolves or other animals, the calls of hawks or night birds. Deer and other wild creatures would sometimes wander into the plains to graze. It was a healthy, stable woodland, feeding the hunters with game and the rivers with clear streams. He often felt buffered by it, himself and the town.

  
"Sort of," he answers, pushing back the core of a huckleberry bush while Shadow trots past. He leaves his palm on the plant until Taako can also brace it, a trade they keep having to make during their climb. The trails here are old and disused, overgrown; something about a harpy nest that had settled in the peak, and a lack of demand for timber as expansion of the town slowed.

  
"I have the logging rights, some of the foresting responsibility. The crown can veto me with a popular local vote, but I'd still get compensation."

  
Despite having asked, Taako looks only vaguely engaged. He isn't sure he can blame him for preferring to absorb the woods. The plants are green and full from the rain of the last storm and the earth still has a dampness to it, the scents and sounds deep and refreshing.

"That had to be a lot of money."

  
Magnus shrugs. "We walked out with a lot of money." It was true-- and he still had enough to spare, an amount that felt more comfortable than the sum he'd had before dumping it into the pockets of the small farming town. "Besides... I liked the forest."

  
"Lemme guess, they were gonna sell it off to some pushy lord up north."

  
"I don't know about that," he laughs. And he really doesn't, but he'd recognized the kind of story he was being told when folks had asked him. Not as dire an anxiety, but still familiar. "...I'm probably only going to be rich once in my life. Might as well do something with it."

   
"You're a doozy," Taako says, shaking his head. But Magnus thinks there's a timid sort of fondness in his smile, while his eyes scan the underbrush.

  
Magnus takes his own moment to absorb the forest. The cloudy morning is breaking steadily into sunlight, but the air is still cool and pleasant. Shadow sticks close, sniffing diligently at every plant and fern and occasionally perking her ears to the sound of some distant animal.

  
"They're nice woods," Taako admits with a hum. "Could pick worse things to spend your money on."

  
"They are." And he's a little gladder, suddenly, at Taako's interest. "...Were you in forests a lot?"

  
Taako huffs air out his nose. "Am I being asked if I'm from one?"

  
_Oh_. Magnus blushes, withdrawing his gaze. "Sorry--"

  
A pat on his shoulder reassures him, though the color stays in his face. "...I was. Not in the way you're thinking." Taako catches up to walk beside him on the broadening trail, making it possible to see his expression as he speaks. "I'd stop in them on the road, or go through if it were less dangerous. Forage a little." He touches the wandering branch of some other plant as it reaches over the path, considering it. "This place is going to be delicious in summer."

   
The very thought of Taako here a few months from now, hiking with him to forage, returning home to cook-- he gets embarrassingly sentimental, and fails to cool his cheeks at all.

  
"We've never talked about stuff like that," he realizes.

  
"Like what?"

  
"What things were like for you back then," he adds. He thinks again of the wagon and imagines, for the first time, before the wagon; the expanse of Taako's long mysterious life, broader and vaster than his own. Then he pauses, not sure that he wants to seem eager. "We don't have to."

  
Taako shrugs. "Not much to talk about." And as they break through looser foliage into flatter earth, he stops Magnus with another pat on the shoulder, uncorking his water skin. "Alright. Breather."

  
He seats himself on a stump across the clearing, and Shadow briefly debates the novelty of a stranger before laying down at his feet. He gives a thumping pat to her panting ribs a few times, and waits to be sure that the line of conversation has been abandoned. Taako's inhales are deep from across the way, enough to be heard over rustling leaves and birdsong.

   
"Out of shape already," he admits, taking a swig from his water.

   
Magnus looks at him in daylight, in the long, savoring way he hasn't gotten to in weeks. The mountaineering look is good on him; the wisps of hair that always escape his braid settle against light sweat on his temples. His rolled sleeves reveal the dusting of golden hair over his forearms, defined and wiry from lifting pans and stirring batter, and under his open shirt his throat and chest are not unattractively dewy. He looks casual and masculine, in a way Magnus finds charming. Maybe more than charming.

   
He's not so distant, then; not _Taako the TV star_ , or even _Taako who saved the world_ , a realization that summons staggering tenderness.

  
Taako sighs, grimacing down at his flask. "...Doesn't feel like it was that long."

  
"Hardly a year," he agrees. But a full one, of building the house and watching from afar as Taako rebuilt everything, for the second time in his life.

  
He knows he doesn't like talking about it. About much, really. Finding the cusps of conversations that are exclusive to boyfriends and exclusive from everybody was still inexact, as were many things. He thinks again to last night, not quite smiling.

  
"Hey," Taako starts, shaking him out of the thought. He looks up, and finds him looking oddly serious, nearly repentant. "...I'm sorry I didn't call."

  
Magnus shakes his head. "No, it's fine. I mean, like you said. You're here now."

  
He isn't sure if that was the right thing to say. It looks to console him. Taako goes back to drinking with only a nod. He opens his own water-skin after tracing a few circles around the cork and takes a small drink, pouring the rest into his palm for the dog.

  
"Gross," Taako grins. He grins back.

  
"I'm not licking my hand or anything," he defends. He dries his palm off on his trousers, and switches hands to dig a crumbled chunk of biscuit out of his bag, standing to hand it out to Taako.

  
The elf takes it with a raised eyebrow, as Magnus sits back down. Shadow has already caught on and trots over to him with ears raised expectantly, an eager bounce in her step. Taako pulls his feet up onto the log, and eyes her alertly.

  
"Tell her to sit."

  
He looks down at the dog, withholding the treats in a fist beside his shoulder with a sudden satisfied smirk, like he's teasing a child. "Sit, girl."

  
She does, tail wagging. Taako's ears flick, and he looks back over with a grin wide enough to show his crooked incisors and little, blunt fangs. "She did it!"

  
His own smile cracking his lips, he gestures with a hand. "Give her the treat."

  
Taako does in a strange way, by letting it roll off his palm towards her onto the ground. She retrieves it quickly, then searches her nose along Taako's seat before slumping into a lean against their log, still panting. The wizard smiles where he sits, limbs close but in delicate angles. Holding himself artfully even now.

  
it takes a moment, but he finally reaches out to pet her head and ears, shrinking only when she shakes her head. Magnus holds onto the smile he sees, even as it turns into a smug look in his direction.

  
"I stole your dog. She likes me better now."

  
He laughs. "Well. She has good taste."

  
Taako himself turns away and closes his grin, maybe turning red, maybe for one of the first times he can remember. Then he stands, water skin resealed and all timidness filed away. "Welp, I'm set. Let's find this damn thing."

 

  
\---

 

  
It takes close to an hour's time, but they don't hurry. The hike is calm, pretty, full of stopping each other wordlessly when they spy tumbling brooks or perching bluebirds.

  
Any other day it would be perfect, but today it keeps nagging on him that he should be alert to the elf's mood. There's little to go on. A handful of oddities; the flitting of his gaze, the way he checks the trail behind him. He seems to hang close, and it's hard to remember if that's unusual.

   
Taako distracts him once they find a fallen tree; a large beech that he unleashes a whoop over, loud enough that the dog barks. Once more he's happy enough for what he has that he saves away everything else for later.

   
With a few chops of the ax, they have a decent piece to take home. A levitation spell is enough to lift it onto their shoulders as they take the walk down, the sky having fully broken into a gorgeous blue.

  
"How about you, 'n forests." Taako asks him. Magnus looks over his unoccupied shoulder, because he doesn't understand.

  
"Huh?"

  
"Been in them often? Know 'em well?"

  
He looks ahead, shrugging under the bouyancy of the tree. "Sometimes, yeah." And the first memory that comes up is inevitable, but he lets it come. "Me and Julia."

   
He surprises himself by saying it. The feelings are there, sharp despite their age, of her low voice as she touched plants and rocks, pointed out landmark streams. How she explained that even on a cloudy day you could orient yourself against the flow of the water.

   
Without looking he can tell Taako's eyes are wandering to give the topic some distance. But maybe that's not what he wants, if such a thing were even possible. He could run miles away and still be as close to it as ever. He would wake up next to this every day.

  
Behind him, Taako clears his throat briefly. When he does speak, Magnus is caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone.

   
"You're... alright out here, by yourself?"

   
"Yeah," he says, almost certain. "...It's good. I like it here a lot."

   
"Good," Taako says. A hand pats against the space between his shoulder blades, in the same kind of clumsy affection he'd been given in the kitchen. "That's good."

 

  
\---

 

  
As soon as they arrive at the house, Magnus starts peeling the bark. The wood beneath is good, cracked only a few feet at the base where it had split from the trunk. If he cuts it now, that'll be good tinder, seasoned just in time for fall-- the rest is sturdy trunk, at least three feet of it.

  
"Watcha gonna use it for?" Taako asks, nudging one end with his boot.

  
"I could make some nice boxes," he thinks, measuring the diameter of the log against his hand. Ten, twelve inches, maybe. "Maybe some gifts."

  
"You sweetheart," Taako sighs. At his seat on the porch, he leans back into the wall with his head rested on his arms. "What now?"

  
He realizes he isn't sure. He'd been too distracted to make any plans.

  
"Lunch?" he offers. "....We could eat outside, while it's nice. There's a spot by the river---"

  
"River?"

   
"Yeah. I cleared the path last winter--"

  
"Hold that thought," Taako offers, hopping to his feet. In only a moment he disappears through the wagon door, giving Magnus a glimpse of the tiny living space inside.

   
Taako soon re-emerges with a red box of tackle and a fishing pole swung over his shoulder. He's bristling with a kind of energy Magnus recognizes and has always admired, at first privately and now explicitly. The sun seems to come off of him, as clearly as it does out of the bright blue sky.

   
He hands both off to Magnus, hopping back up the steps into the house. "I'll make us a basket."

  
For not very long, he's left in the yard with the bright spring day at its fulcrum. The last hints of clouds drift towards the hills, the cows graze in the pasture. Despite everything, and there's a great deal of everything, he's having a nice day. He thinks Taako might be too.

   
Soon he emerges with a basket hanging off his arm, covered by a dish towel, and bounds over to peck Magnus on his cheek. It sends him reeling a little, the flop of his stomach reminding him how out of practice he is. How new Taako's casual intimacy is, feeling all the newer for four weeks without it.

  
If he has lingering doubts about romance, they compete with every physical reality in his body; the pounding of his heart, the tell-tale if not inappropraitely timed tension in his middle.

  
He rebounds, finds something to say. "Are you gonna catch us dinner?"

   
"My dinner, but I'll share if you're nice to me," Taako promises.

  
Shadow is left by the house on her run. She's tired from the hike and the morning's excercise, and while it'll be the longest he's ever left her at a stretch, he'd of had to try her on her own for more than an hour eventually. He clips the leash to her collar and pets her ears, scratching into her ruff.

   
"Be good, okay?"

   
She blinks in answer, but only stares curiously from her comfortable place in the shade when the two of them stand to leave. It's not till they're some distance that she barks, but glancing over his shoulder he can spot her returning to her soft patch of earth by the stairs, staring at the cows.

   
He sighs, relieved. She's a smart dog. He shouldn't worry. He turns back to the trail, and walks ahead.

  
"Lead the way, stud." Taako claps on his shoulder, his grin sharp, his eyes bright.

 

  
\---

 

  
The walk to the river is not as far or steep, on a widened path littered in wildflowers and shadowed in alder and dogwood.

   
There's room to walk side by side, so this time he can watch Taako as they travel. Not for any reason other than wanting to watch. The little magenta flower still rests on his ear, and he has a peaceful look, up until he notices being stared at. Quickly, his grin turns mischievous 

  
"Got something on my face?" he teases. Magnus wordlessly taps the side of his own head, and Taako's unburdened arm reaches up until his fingers rest on the bloom.

  
" _Pff_ ," he says. He tugs it out, then reaches over to notch it there above Magnus' ear, shorter and stunter than his own. "There, your turn."

  
He laughs like he hasn't laughed in a while.

 

  
\---

 

  
When they get there, Taako plops the basket down on the smooth bank of river rocks and spreads out the cloth to cover their seat. Magnus sets aside the rod and tackle, looking out at the river, wide and shallow and slow between the two short falls on either side. The moving water cools the air, and something about the sound of it calms all the worry he'd had before.

  
"You know how to do this?" Taako asks, fetching the rod and unspooling line from a skein. Magnus shakes his head; there wasn't a lot of fishing in Raven's Roost, and whatever their was, it had never been his job.

   
"That's fine. Easy as pie," he promises, checking the contraption with a few more taps and tugs. "Pile up some rocks for me, will ya?"

   
He nods quickly, excited to see this. "How big?"

  
"Big enough," Taako offers, hefting an empty hand. He gathers a few he thinks should be good enough, heavy enough to fill his palm, and sits back down on the cloth to watch as Taako moves to the bank. Taako crouches with his feet in the water, palming hair away from his face while he overturns stones and digs his fingers two knuckles deep into the mud, painted nails and all.

  
"Got one," he mumbles, tugging a pale pink worm form the earth. He wraps it small and wriggling tight into his palm, as he walks back to the blanket; "They like these. Here..."

  
Taako plops back down beside him, follows the strand of fishing line down to the hook, and slits the little bit of metal through the widest part of the worm's middle. Though smiling, Magnus shudders a little at the sight, but it doesn't shake his focus.

  
"You get used to it," Taako promises. "Circle of life, my man."

  
"Circle of life," he concedes. "...Who taught you to fish?"

  
Taako gives him glance, quick before it flits away. "Self-taught, broski." Satisfied with his job, he drops the hook with the still twisting worm so the line hangs off his palm. "So this could all be wrong, I dunno."

   
Taako stands, and beckons him to do the same. Realizing what's being asked of him, he gets to his feet quickly, his heart pounding as Taako takes his hands. He places them along the pole, nudging his elbows and shoulders into the correct posture.

   
"Just know where the hook is, give it room to arc, you're all good, sug."

   
He swings the rod high, out and down, surprised when the hook makes the distance and lands in the middle of the babbling water before it bobs slowly downstream. If he hadn't already been grinning, Taako's brief clapping would have made him smile anyway.

   
Taako digs the end of the stick down into the dirt of the bank, propping it with heavy rocks. He cleans his dirty hands off on the towel beneath them before he returns, hefts the basket over, and hands Magnus a sandwich wrapped in what he recognizes as his own butcher paper. "And now we wait. Probably for nothing, just gonna warn you."

  
He's fine by that. He's more focused on lunch, anyway; the first bite stuns him, the greens firm and pungent and the meat thinly sliced and salty, lightly peppered under an airy, chewy loaf. It tastes as good as the day is bright, almost like it was intended to match it, and he covers his mouth as he speaks through his gnawing.

   
"Where'd you get _prosciutto_?"

   
Taako finishes his mouthful, swallowing. He holds his sandwich in one hand, in an arm propped over his knee, and stares at it idly. "It'll be plain old ham again in an hour, so don't save any for later."

  
He shakes his head, waits until his mouth is clear again before he speaks. "It's _really_ good."

   
"Thanks," Taako grins. "Figured... y'know, do something special."

   
Magic, he thinks, looking down at his food.

   
It wasn't that he didn't know it was back in Taako's life. With the show, it had to be. He'd earned it, Taako had once said, without fondness or enthusiasm. This was still the first time he could remember it happening in their home, and without saying or asking he thinks he understands.

  
Their appetites are hearty from the hike. He eats every bite, and licks his fingers clean. Taako finishes too, and when he's done he settles back onto his palms to watch the river.

   
Before long, Taako shifts close enough that their arms touch. As if to remind him of how long they've been apart, a pleasant shiver goes up his right side and a faint electricity settles in his spine. And the thought of reaching out and touching him is nice, and enticing, and comforting. (The thought of doing more lingers below that, just far enough below he manages not to blush like a lovesick teen.) But he lets it remain a thought for now. The possibility is enough. Being near him is enough.

   
It's a quiet moment. The sun is warm on him even when broken by leaves, and the line and hook drift undisturbed, peaceful in the water. It's a perfect day, he realizes. At this distance, they're far enough into wild land that it reminds him of sore feet, and long roads, and nights spent miles away from the nearest lamp-lit window. Somewhere behind them, a strange bird makes a long whooping cry.

   
Taako hums at his side, blinking. "There even fish here?"

   
"Dunno," he confesses, shrugging only with his free shoulder. "Probably."

  
"What kind?"

  
"I should know that," he admits, laughing. Taako waves a hand in casual forgiveness.

  
"As long as it's not salmon," He sighs. He withdraws then, stretching out like a cat onto their little towel on the bank, his arms folded up behind his head and his legs crossed at the calves. The light dapples into his eyes, so he shields them with his palm up, where dots of light gather in his cradled fingers like little yellow beads. "...Sick to death of salmon."

  
Magnus says nothing. He watches as he licks his lips, like clearing his tongue of a bad memory. He finds himself hanging off the potential of Taako's words.

   
"Used to be this one town I stayed in," he starts, idly bouncing his foot. "...Spawning season, rivers were lousy with em. Didn't mind letting me fish one or two," he explains. He inspects his nails, flicking away specks of imagined dirt. "Kept me fed the whole spring."

  
He huffs deep and long, blowing away his loose hair. "...must have eaten a hundred of those bastards."

  
Magnus listens wordlessly. Voraciously.

  
Despite it not being a good story, he holds onto it. It's important, the way Taako's important. It's another piece of him that feels so illusive, unfairly so because he isn't even asking for them-- he just keeps putting them all away, keeping as much of Taako as he can. The way he looks in the sunlight, the things that scare him, the places he's been. He wants those. Whenever he gets one, he can't help but want another, only distantly caring that he's being greedy. He can't ignore the way his chest tightens around it. Can't ignore the way it makes him feel.

  
He doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing, smoothing his palms over his wrists and watching the water. In a minute, Taako comes back up next to him, and to his surprise leans up against his arm until their bodies are flush. He lets him, greeting him with a smile.

  
"If it's salmon, we'll throw it back," he promises.

  
"Pff," he answers. "....s'alright. Maybe it's been long enough..." he trails off, looking up and down the bend.

   
It's somewhere past noon, now, where the sun is sinking rather than climbing. It's near enough to overhead that the surface of the water sparkles like coins or candles, and the air is starting to get just warm enough to make him tired.

  
"I come here to think, sometimes," he says aloud. And he does; the spot is idyllic, cool even on the hot days, and the moving water stays liquid even when winter freezes the well pipe and snow blankets the earth.

  
"Doing a lot of that up here?"

  
"Yep," he says. "...You ever realize how old you've gotten, out of nowhere?"

  
Taako whistles, rubs a palm along his bicep. Then lingers the grip, for a not so subtle squeeze. "You're talkin to it, bud."

   
"It's not bad." He amends, shortly; "I'm getting better."

   
Taako lets go of his arm to pat a palm on his thigh, lets it stay there, and embarrassingly that's enough to warm his cheeks. "You're somethin', Mags," he says, closing his eyes and laying his head to Magnus' shoulder. "Built a whole world up here."

  
"Was already here," he quantifies. "Just found it."

   
"Mhmm," Taako agrees, but like he's too relaxed to play at anything else. Magnus feels trapped in a good way, thrilled to have him here and safe. The emotions are still there, the same soup of them that had been since the day Taako got home and long before.

  
He works on the feelings until they're a reasonable question. "...Will you stay tomorrow?"

   
Taako blinks his eyes open and shrugs gently, teasing at the seam on his thigh with his nails. "Yeah. Another night, I guess."

   
He closes them again, leaning on Magnus fully. It's just the sound of the river, just the feeling of his heart sated and full at their closeness.

   
"It's wonderful here," Taako says. And that surprises him. He's relieved to know it-- He likes it here. He can feel the elf's shoulders square as he stares out into the far bank, shifting against him. "...wish I could stay."

  
"You can," he blurts out. The words got to his mouth before him. He immediately swallows them, tempering himself, thinking of this morning and the night before. Of a drunk, inexplicable wizard on his porch.

  
He reaches, taking the elf's shoulder. "...Taako, you can come here anytime you want. For as long as you need. Okay?"

   
Taako holds onto him with clear, focused eyes. But he doesn't say anything. Magnus decides, then and there, that he doesn't have to. As long as he knows.

   
"Thanks," he says, and then quieter; "That's-- thank you, Magnus."

  
_That's enough_ , he thinks. _That's enough for me_.

   
The rest of the afternoon is easier. They talk about nothing, or they don't talk at all, resting on each other's weight and enjoying the river.

   
He thinks a few times about kissing him. Somehow, it never happens. Smaller sensations stick out bright and urgent in his senses; the way it feels when Taako's spine flexes under his touch. The way his breath hits over his neck, and how it feels to be watched by those golden eyes without looking back.

   
Though it seems the afternoon could last forever, it doesn't. Eventually the line goes taught, and Taako springs up onto his heels to pluck the rod from the stones before it topples over. Magnus heaves after to help him pull in the line, watching where it parts the water into a jittering wake, and soon an aggressive froth. Before long a dull green shape splashes and writhes in the shallows, and Taako scrabbles to pluck it up out of the water, hooking his finger into the gills.

   
It struggles and flaps where it dangles off his hand, and Taako takes as good a look as he can through its wriggling. When he pins it down to the rocks, he looks up at Magnus, his expression dry.

  
"Bream. Even worse."

   
He snorts, laughs, and Taako returns his smile. He's still smiling as they take the walk home.

 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I officially don't know how to structure fics anymore. Have some fish.


	4. Chapter 4

The afternoon passes easy. Shadow needs more exercise the minute they're home, and to his surprise, Taako offers to play with her after watching them fetch with the same stick from the morning. They switch places, Magnus on the porch and Taako and the dog out in the field.

The heat of late-day bakes the tall grasses dry, Taako's hair and Shadow's fur trapping rays of sunlight. They dart back and forth, a year old pup and an elf well past a century chasing each other in his front yard.  In brief moments and glimpses, he understands him as an old man. Older than any human he'll ever know.

"Here girl," Taako offers, retreating away and lifting it out of her reach when she goes to grab it-- he hefts and throws, and Magnus tries not to laugh as the dog overshoots expecting a farther distance.

He watches them, the way they play-- the way Taako keeps his hands far from her mouth, stays agile on his feet in a way he can't with his bad knee. Shadow seems to enjoy the new game, darting and careening, refusing to return the branch unless she's chased.

He could sit here and watch them for the rest of the evening, probably. But that feels almost greedy, and he's content enough just knowing they're there.

"I'm gonna split part of that log. I'll be around back."

"Oh!" Taako cries. "I'll be there in a minute."

Distracted, Shadow is able to grab the end of the stick from him and tug it free, restarting the contest. He heads to the backyard, a glow settled in his chest.

He's only been set up and chopping for a few rounds before they appear through the back door. Taako plops on the porch and Shadow follows suit beside his feet, the both of them breathing deeply.

"Don't wanna miss the show," Taako grins. Suddenly, he's pleasantly aware of how his arms feel and look as he swings the ax, and smiles at the satisfying split of wood under the blow. A low, appreciative hum floats from the elf's direction.

"...Hey, got anything to drink?"

It takes him a while before he understands the question. "Some cider in the fridge, I think."

"You want one?"

"I'm good," he grins. "Help yourself."

"Will I ever," Taako cheers, disappearing into the house. Shadow watches him go, but is unperturbed. He's surprised how quickly she's made her opinion, watching him more like she does the cows and the horizon. Like part of the home, looking after him.

_Glad you like him_ , he thinks.

Before long he's back, uncapping his bottle for a hearty swig. He immediately shakes his head, grimacing through a swallow as he repositions himself on the stairs. "Oh my god, Magnus, it's like kool-aid."

"Just grabbed it from the general store," he apologizes. "...haven't found the good stuff yet."

"Really?" Displeased as he is, he takes another drink. "No way. There's gotta be some cute little brewery around here."

"Haven't been drinking that often," he explains. Taako nods, almost agreeing, and drains another glug out of the bottle anyway.

"They knew you at the tavern," Taako offers. "...You don't hang out with the locals yet?"

He pauses, setting up the next log. "Sometimes," he says.

In the first year, he'd been taken for drinks by the men and women that had helped him build. He'd gotten invitations and taken them, for as long as the house was going up. Then, the house was up-- and for the first month, he told himself he was just resting. Settling in to home. Then the next month. And the next month, until now.

"Been a little tired," he justifies. Taako nods as he drinks.

"That's fine, babe," he reassures. He's not already tipsy off of one cider, Magnus is sure, but he can already see the heat in the man's ears. "...Still, folks love ya. Always do." Taako rubs his thumb around the lip of his bottle, watching the horizon. "Know it's hard to compare to ol Taako, but don't..."

The elf trails off, gesturing with a flying hand. As it falls to his lap, Magnus remembers with a little more clarity that Taako is leaving soon. A twinge pulls at his chest, like an underused muscle strained too far.

"I won't," he promises. He gets that same old look; warm, wise, sweet, and the ache fades.

Pretty soon it's the three of them there as the sun sinks down into the valley. Taako watches from the porch, drinking, scratching Shadow's ears and whooping in approval every few swings of the ax until the air cools, and the sky starts to dim. Time passes, and he likes it. It's enough, and more than that.

This was home already. He'd committed to it, and he's still sure he was right to. And he knew if he had to, if it came to it, he could live the rest of his life here alone.

But he wasn't alone, not today or yesterday, or any of the other days Taako had been here filling up every space he went. In an entire year, it hadn't felt so much like home than it does now, chopping firewood as the sky turns gold, someone else drinking his cider and petting his dog.

Sometime after Taako retrieves and finishes his second bottle, the cows bray for their dinner, which the elf decides to answer.

"You clean the fish, I'll cook it," he promises, and Magnus nods in agreement. Something deep down lurches up at the domestic rhythm like a starving dog.

It's him and Shadow in the kitchen then. The end of the full day leaves him buzzing, filled to bursting with an energy he hasn't had in weeks. All the same, he's sure he could fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, a conflict of energies racing around his body.

He sears trimmings of the fish left over and feeds them to the dog when she sits or shakes her paw, pets her ears, and refills her water. Then she gets her dinner, a smaller portion of the same meal served at breakfast, and the two of them wait for Taako to come back inside.

"Alright," Taako announces, clapping his clean hands dry. "No more living like a caveman. Your boyfriend's in town--" he fetches a pan, and one of the knives from the rack. "We're eating like kings tonight."

Magnus smiles from his seat at the bench. "You don't have to..."

"Wanna," he justifies, reaching to tap the tip of Magnus' nose while he sets out the cutting boards. "Payin' you back for all your rustic hospitality, bub." Utensils keep emerging from the drawers and cupboards, until the counters are neatly littered with arranged tools like an army ready for march. "Unless you want to let me do that the old fashioned way."

He colors, but leans closer anyway. "...Can I have both?"

Taako pats his arm with the wooden spoon in his hand, a jest at a scolding smack, but the mere association with orphanage homesteaders makes him smile in humor. He wears that smile all through watching him return to his work.

Watching Taako cook is joy. The setting sun fills the kitchen, glinting off the chopping of knives or the sway of his golden braid. There's a flow to his motions, going from one counter to the other like weaving. Magnus wonders if it's more like building, where you know every piece and the order to go to them in, or like carving, where shapes flow on instinct. He doesn't dare ask now; he knows the look Taako gets when he's in his own world, thinking only of the cooking or perhaps not thinking at all.

Soothed by the rhythm and his own weariness, he falls into daydreaming. At first it's harmless, where he imagines Taako might stay for a week at a time once recording is done. He'll take him down to the valley's river, the _big_ river, or maybe up to the lake. It gradually becomes something less innocuous; thoughts of waking up to him, coming home to him. Day, after day, after day.

The thought stalls him briefly. But he tries to fend off the tightness that threatens in his chest. He lets it unwind, slowly, until the idea settles like a stone at the bottom of calm water. It stays there, and he feels its presence, and watches Taako, and he's alright. At the end of a day like this, he's beyond fighting it; he's better than alright.

It takes him a while to realize that anything might be wrong. Taako is never slow when he cooks, and always looks unhurried. Cracking eggs and stirring batter with ease, with hands and arms that have done all of it infinite times in his hundred-some years, he flies between tasks. Two full pans sizzle on the stove, one for the fish, one for onions and squash, and a pot boils on the third while prepared ingredients pile quickly to his left-- Magnus realizes with a little embarrassment that almost all his bake ware is getting used up. And that he'll need to do groceries.

Or maybe not. As he chops the mushrooms, Magnus evaluates the size of the portions being made and figures there'll be enough to feed him for a couple days if he rations it. Maybe longer.

Taako peels the final potato, deposits the whole bowl of them into the pot, almost leaving the countertops clear. Immediately afterwards a baking dish emerges from the lower storage, surprising him. Taako tugs out another bowl. Then another. Then flower and sugar to fill it, and when he cleans the scraps off the cutting boards, he doesn't put them in the sink. Instead, he grabs apples from the fruit bowl, tugging three bottles down from the spice rack.

He feels the tension between his shoulders before he understands it. Below him, Shadow raises her head from the floor, as if it had caught her as well.

"Hey," he tests. He isn't sure what's bothering him. Taako's hair hangs in his face, hiding his expression. "...Are you tired?"

Taako hums. He doesn't look up from stirring the wet ingredients into the dry, a little too quickly. He sets one bowl down. Turns the vegetables in their pan, raises the heat on the other pot. Tugs a crate of blackberries out of the fridge. He doesn't look up at all.

He'd barely seen it coming, but now it surrounds him. Taako's actions seem to lag, like they're being pulled out of him from someplace far away. All warmth is gone from the air, a tightness settles in his throat.

Don't just sit there, he tells himself. A simple fear of inaction turns out to be enough to sway him.

He comes around the bar and hovers himself uncertainly at the front of the kitchen. If Taako notices, it doesn't show; he's an unchanged flurry of activity, the counters quickly covered again under bowls and boards and piles.

He asks warily; "You need help?"

"Hmnn," Taako mumbles, pulling the last tin baking tray onto the last open burner. "No, Maggie."

"Alright," He says. Taako washes the blackberries, picks up an apple and starts chopping. And suddenly it's clear to him that he's miles and miles away.

Magnus stalls in front of his options. He could do what he desperately wants to; go up, touch him, ask him what's wrong.

His heart sinks immediately, thinking of that. He's pretty sure he knows.

He's been here himself in this very room, on nights when all he could do was watch the ceiling and cry. For all the things he's seen and done and failed to do. He could press him about it-- he would have to, it wouldn't come out easy, no easier it had when Taako had shown up at his door. They could have an argument, force the truth out of him for his own good; _Why won't you just talk to me?_

His guts twist. Maybe if he were younger. Maybe if they were just friends, that would be the right thing to do, because Taako would hate it and he might leave, but he'd come back from it knowing nothing would change. But he's not younger, and they're not friends. And worst of all, most childishly, he doesn't want him to leave.

_He might not come back_ , say his fears.

But he knows exactly what those feelings are, so he corrals them.

Magnus bites his lip, retreating with the dog to the chairs at the dining table to wait it out. They watch until the sky outside goes from orange to rosy and finally dull blue, as Taako's strange fit trails on. More dishes pile, seemingly endlessly, until even at this distance he can detect the shaking in Taako's hands as he moves between tasks. Fresh off its chain his heart yearns and aches and pleads, but he stays where he sits.

In time, the dog looks up at him expectantly. No, she's right. He can't just sit here in the shadow of Taako's mood. So after gathering his strength, he follows the pull in his stomach and stands again to walk to the counter.

"Hey," he begins. His voice comes out soft, even as his throat feels dry. "Taako?"

A hum of acknowledgment, over the noise of bowls and pans.

"I'm taking the dog out for a bit," he says, slow and even. "I'll be right outside. I'm coming right back."

"Mhmm."

"Love you," he says. He's relieved he sounds as calm as he'd meant to. He's relieved that it doesn't hurt to say. And Taako's hands still, just for long enough that he sees it.

That's all he can do. He clips the leash to her collar, and walks out the back door, leaving behind his warm kitchen and Taako in it.

\---

Outside, the world is blue. The cows, orange in daylight, lumber around the remnants of their dinner as large dark shapes. They moo as he and the dog pass, wading through the field to where the earth slopes upward in the back of the property, long blades of grass swishing past his thighs and parting around Shadow as she walks ahead.

Above them, the first stars peek through a thin blanket of new clouds. At the top of the hill behind the house, a lonely young oak stands tall and thin, like a drip of ink falling from its leaves. He climbs to it, taking care of his footfalls in the dark. It feels like a dream he can't remember.

He eases himself to sitting at the tree's base using touch over sight. The bark is smooth under his palm, the earth bumpy with roots under his seat. As he settles his back to the trunk, Shadow lays in a warm lump beside him, her ears perked for the noises of crickets and owls, her tail wagging uncertainly. As hot as the day was the air is now cool, the world quiet enough to hear the wind carving through the mountains above over the sound of catching his own breath.

The hills unroll below them. He's missed sundown by a while. Only a thin stripe of pink remains, glowing over the valley's opposite mountains. The rest of the world is a single family of purple and navy; here in the dark even his own skin looks as deep and and cool as ocean water. He takes long, steadying breaths, and braces himself.

Ahead, windows the size of stars mark Porthaven in its nest of patchwork fields, those and the final puffs of hearthsmoke rising like pills on the top of old wool. He's never seen it this way before. In the small amount of time that he sits here, waiting for nothing at all, one or two of them wink out and cast their homes back into shapeless night.

His own house sits closer, the sloped roof, the porch, the cow's pasture. Taako's wagon parked by the wall. From here, from above, it seems suddenly so small to him. Like a child's model toy. No bigger than a wooden chest, this thing meant to hold the rest of his life. And somewhere inside, Taako paces form counter to counter alone.

He puts off the twist in his heart a little longer, wringing each hand in the grip of the other. Sucking a lip between his teeth.

When Shadow huffs in confusion, he reaches out to scratch her ruff and ears. When she looks at him, her brown eyes an indistinguishable color in the blue darkness, he cups her face in his large palms and smooths her whiskers and cheeks with his thumbs.

"I don't know what to do," he confesses. Obviously she doesn't have any answers for him, so he smooths his hand over her head and lets her go.

He knows Taako better than most. Too well to demand answers. He shouldn't need them, anyway; if it were the show, or his career, that wasn't anything Magnus was entitled to. Taako would talk about it if he wanted to, and no sooner.

His imagination is perfectly ready to terrify him wih other suggestions, things that make him tug blades of grass into his grip to soothe his anxiety. But even in that case, the answer is clear; be kind. Patient, graceful. _Say I know something's wrong_ , and _it's okay_ , and _I just want you to know I'm here for you_. Say it, and hope it was enough, and hope he would take the offer instead of running.

He should be fine with that. He should be capable of that kind of unconditional, selfless love. He's not fine. There's a pit in his stomach, dull and persistent, aching and pleading and stupid. Eating him up. Not a new feeling, but one he thought he'd outgrown.

A few years younger and he would have fought to make his love heard at any cost, smash cluelessly through every defense in his way. Only a year ago, and he still wouldn't be up here on this hill, unsorting a tangled mess of feelings in his middle.

He tilts his head back against the tree, looking up into its mosaic of leaves. They sway in a mess of dark, subtle shapes against the sky, like cloud watching in fast forward. Between blinks, a church tower, a fish, the mouth of a dragon.

When they'd stared this, there had been no guarantees for how long it would last. _I want to try something new_ , he'd said. Casual. At the time he'd meant it. He'd tried not to have any vision of the future at all; Taako might stay his boyfriend for another year or forever, or they'd get busy or bored or his job would take him too far away, or they'd have their fun until one of them had something better to do. All of that had been fine. The world was a horizon, a year ago. Open and bright.

Now, he recognizes the cold pull in his belly for what it is. It feels like grief.

And like that, the mountain comes crashing down, revealing all his agony for what it is. He covers his face as it screws up, hiding it from no one at all.

"Fuck," he mutters, before a sigh that empties his lungs. Shadow sniffs him in worried curiosity, and he pats her until she lays back down against his thigh, trapped under his palm. He swallows the bewildering threat of tears for the few moments it takes, letting his thoughts seep in the quiet of evening. Warm fur and a small heartbeat under his hand, wetness brewing in his eyes.

Taako. Taako at his side, gazing at him, coming home to their bed. Splitting chores, cooking dinners.

_I love him_ , he tells himself. He knew that. He swallows an ache, tries again.

_I want him,_ he admits. _In any way I've ever wanted anyone._

He'd built a house with room for two, a spacious kitchen and a double bed, worried fastidiously over every detail without ever letting himself know what he was doing. In hindsight, he'd admitted it in everything but words, to everyone but himself. Everything he'd done was an invitation just within deniability, just enough that it wasn't _quite asking_ \-- and here he was, heartbroken, hungry. Buying flowers, brewing coffee.

He goes cold in fear. It's not fair, he thinks, that part of you can die and grow back. It should be dead forever. He shouldn't be here again, wanting the same things, but he does. Maybe not marriage. But a partner. A life with someone else. Someone to confide in, to confide in him.

He breathes in and out again, cooling the ache in his throat.

And then there was Taako, not just the one in his imagination. The real one there at the foot of the hill, who might not be capable of splitting his life up with another person. And if he was never asked, he absolutely wouldn't. And if he _was_ asked, and he didn't, then he would still have the house, and the kitchen, and the double bed, and a heart beating on as it's always done.

Maybe it was wrong to assume he'd be any better at it. Wanting wasn't the same as being ready. He might never be ready.

He almost has to laugh at himself. A fickle disaster of a wizard, and him, shattered and glued together maybe half as good, still putting together what had made it out in the end.

Gradually, he calms. Neither of them were in any shape to talk about it, at least not until morning. He feels jagged and raw on the inside, like a picked scab. But tired and emptied. Ready to leave it be for the evening.

_I'll ask when I know he's safe_ , he decides.

The last colors have nearly disappeared from the night sky. He fumbles in the dark to re-clip Shadow to her leash.

"Come on girl," he beckons, standing from the tree. "Let's go home."

She stands quickly, eager to return indoors, and the pair of them walk the slope back down just before the sky goes fully dark.

\---

As soon as he re-enters the house, he's greeted by a wave of warm, enticing scents. Shadow sniffs with her ears alert as he unlaces his boots at the back door.

"Taako?" he calls, gently. There's no answer, not even the sound of movement in the kitchen.

Despite everything, the smell of food manages to rekindle his forgotten appetite. It's almost embarrassing to go from licking his wounds to suddenly have a gurgling stomach, pulling him back into the reality of a body that had worked all day, and then skipped dinner.

_Later_ , he thinks. He unclips the dog, and the two of them walk down the hall into the main room.

The kitchen is quiet and empty. He leans across the bar and finds an abundance of trays and pans littering the counter and stove. Most rest under the cover of lids or dishtowels, steam still escaping through corners or fogging glass. Beside them, two plates sit side by side in a pair, each wrapped in tin foil.

To his amazement, the counters look nearly clean. It's the sink that seems to localize the disaster, filled to capacity with dirty pots and bowls. But no sign of the wizard.

Shadow grumbles somewhere behind him. He turns into the room, continuing his search into the living space where he finds Taako splayed in a heap on the couch, on all accounts dead to the world. He's a pile of limbs spread at random, one arm thrown over his eyes, flower smeared on his skin and shirt. His boots sit on the floor, as if they'd been kicked off in an afterthought, his hair nearly loose from its braid.

Shadow is already there, sniffing at what she can reach. He gently eases her away, and kneels to take Taako's shoulder, giving him as gentle a shake as he can. "Hey."

No response at all. Just the rise and fall of his breathing, slow and steady. Peaceful.

"You're okay," he mutters, thinking it may be the only condition he'll accept the consolation in. "You're okay, Taako."

As carefully as he can, he winds his arms under the elf's sleeping body and lifts him up, bad knee and all. Taako's weight is not insignificant, but sinks into his arms cooperatively when he goes to stand, head lolling onto his collar, arms bundling between them.

It's so, so easy, he finds, to carry something again.

He leaves Taako in the bedroom on his side of the mattress, covered in a thin blanket. Shadow hops soundlessly to the foot of the bed, and lays down there on the space beside his calves.

He considers telling her to get down, but her eyes are focused and plaintive. Maybe she only wants to sleep in her usual spot, but she seems too aware of the stranger in the room, resting her head near his feet.

"Okay," he agrees, quietly. "Take good care of him for me."

\---

He's mostly snapped out of it by the time he returns to the kitchen. The first thing to deal with is the food. There's so much of it, he hardly knows where to start.

He settles on the largest and closest pan, lifting up a corner of the towel. The top is a gold-crusted cobbler sprinkled in brown sugar, explaining the disappearance of all his berries and the one week-old peach. Looking around, he can't find much remaining in his fridge or pantry. A jar of pasta, the half-empty carton of cider bottles.

His hunger is still insisting. Guiltily, he gives in and sneaks off a piece from the edge of the baking dish. He tries the bite plateless over his own palm, shuts his eyes, and chews.

_Oh_. Immediately he makes a fist against the counter, suppressing a groan. "Holy shit, that's good."

There's no one around to hear him, so the color in his face goes unexplained. He moves to the others while licking his fingers clean.

There's a pie cooling on the bar, and a covered pot of mashed potatoes that wafts a delicious aroma of chives and garlic. A pan rests half-full of still warm vegetables, but there's no sign of the fish until he checks one of the plates covered in foil.

Maybe it's just Taako's usual showmanship, and he shouldn't be sentimental. Something about the perfectly glazed fish, the portions of vegetables and potatoes arranged around it neatly, betray so much care that the same problem comes back again.  But he takes it, the plate and one of the awful ciders from the fridge, and sits down to dinner alone at the large table. He savors every strange, wonderful bite. He doesn't have any vocabulary to place the flavors, cheap, wild fish in an overly labored glaze that cracks under the fork but melts on the tongue. Any hungrier and he'd have been starving, so the oddness of it hardly has time to matter. Bite by bite, he feels better.

Shadow pads quietly into the room after a while. She curls up on her bed while he eats, and falls promptly asleep for having delayed her bedtime two nights in a row. He stays up long enough to finish his meal, put away the cooked food, and clean half of the dishes in the sink, until his own body fights through the last of his efforts and he finally succumbs to exhaustion.

His intentions had been to fall asleep as soon as he turns off the lamps and lays down on the couch, to not have to think of anything at all. He's almost successful, but his mind still has time to wander to various half-dreamt places. Old, and new, and some he's never been to.

He gives up in the end, and thinks of her as he falls asleep. He can still remember the look in her eyes on that night before they went to war, her face lit only by the fire. She was looking at him, right in front of him, close enough to touch. But miles and miles away.

Sometimes, like now, he wonders how close he'd ever really gotten.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely still not sure about a lot of elements here, but really happy to not be stuck anymore & also to be able to move on to the next part. Hope you liked it!


	5. Chapter 5

Magnus opens his eyes to darkness some time in the middle of the night. Somewhere in the sky, the moon casts weak light through the windows, and the furniture and walls cut it apart into abstract shapes. Even to him, in a place that he built himself, the rooms and hallways seem unfamiliar at certain times of day.

  
A second touch to his shoulder repeats the one that had woken him. He startles briefly before he recognizes Taako as the silhouette to his right, visible only by the moonlight on his back. Magnus blinks the sleep from his eyes, and eases onto one shoulder.

  
"I woke up and you weren't there," Taako says, whispered. But not accusingly. There's something smaller and more thin in his tone.

  
"Sorry," he assures. He's still not awake enough to process it.

  
He stands slowly into the dark, minding the stiffness settled into his back and calves. His night on the hill and even the scene in the kitchen still lags in the back of his memory. He almost stumbles in surprise when Taako comes to him, winding arms about his middle and pulling in close.

  
He flattens a palm to his back, and feels the blanket he'd covered him in before draped there over his shoulders. Tired and still warm, he closes his eyes and leans them together, resting his cheek on Taako's head. He remembers wanting this. And for a while, he has it; they hang there, suspended in the quiet and darkness of the living room.

  
Then Taako pulls away, slipping from the embrace like it barely held him at all. But he does take Magnus' hand, fingers linking together as he leads him through the blackness of the hallway to their room.

  
He's still disoriented enough that when he lays down and helps the covers back over their legs, he thinks he's close to sleep. He reaches to lay his palm over Taako's waist, distantly aware of the need to feel him near. His breathing is even, and the morning is as inevitable as ever. _We'll talk tomorrow_ , he tells himself.

  
Then Taako moves. First barely at all, so he thinks to withdraw his arm to give him space. But the elf follows his absence, comes closer, and tucks down against his chest until he can feel breath stirring the collar of his tunic.

  
A sharp pang of sympathy sets him awake. He arranges his arms around him, rubs a scratchy cheek against his crown. Kisses his forehead, and aches for his sake.

  
If it made it any better at all, he'd stay like this for years. He feels that devotion in him, in full and blinding clarity, and a part of him still shies from it. As strong as that doubt may be, it's helpless to his better nature; he loves, he's in love, and he pulls Taako closer to try and salve the pain and fear in him.

  
A shiver goes across Taako's body, and at first he worries he's done something wrong. Then, hands come over his chest and take fistfuls of his shirt, and in a surge of movement, Taako's lips are on his own.

  
_Oh_. A light goes up his spine, as palms search over his collar, link warm and smooth behind his neck. It's been weeks-- his body acts without him. He kisses back automatically, smoothing his palms up Taako's back and pulling them together.

  
The elf's spine rolls, his hips grazing Magnus's thigh, and the slight grit of his teal tongue drags into his mouth. A flood of desire hits him all at once, a realization of all the ways he's missed him. The same hopeless, voracious wanting, returning at full strength. He notices for the first time that Taako's transmuted shirt has returned to silk, as it fills his palms, that he can still smell the flour smeared on his cheek. Somehow they haven't kissed until just now, and for the way it feels he's kicking himself for not doing it the minute the elf came through the door. A wave passes over him that makes him flush, embarrassed at his body's own eagerness.

  
Taako's missed him too. He can feel it in the insistence of his palms and tongue, in hands filling themselves with the flesh of his chest and back. A genuine _want_ so sudden and overwhelming he temporarily gives into it, trying to soothe the elf's desperation-- deep kisses at first, breaking for a rhythm of them up the man's neck. A sound escapes Taako's throat, then his own in turn, and before he knows it he's rolled to his back with Taako moving to straddle him.

  
The abruptness of it all finally catches up to him. He goes immediately still as the elf seeks a rhythm of their hips, then he braces his palms to them. "Hey," he warns, gently.

  
As quickly as the kiss had warmed him, he goes cool. Nervous. He can't see him any more than a dark shape.

  
"Didn't you miss me?" Taako says, too ragged to achieve his attempt at sultry. Fingers tease at the top of his shirt, but above them his hands shake. Magnus swallows a lurch in his throat. He solidifies his grip around Taako's hips and pushes him away to sitting on his thighs.

  
"Stop," he says, firmly. Taako immediately does, freezing in his grip. The moment stalls and looms there in utter darkness, straining his other senses.

  
He can feel Taako's palms, planted there on his chest. The bright crescents of fingernails pulling through hair, as his hands tense. His pounding heart against that pressure as Taako leans weight on him, the sound of their breathing in the air, the smell of sweat and lingering scents of the kitchen.

  
"Sorry," Taako whispers somewhere above, hoarse and cracking. He falls beside him and stays there, limp, obscured in the poor light. Magnus strains to listen and hears the first strangled noise of a swallowed cry, and reaches out into the blackness. "I'm sorry."

  
"Hey," he soothes; groping for Taako's shoulder, he finds it, and rubs his palm over it slowly. "It's okay," he promises. Still trying to find out how they'd gotten here.

  
It's surreal; the weariness still clinging to his mind, the taste of Taako and that cheap cider still on his tongue, the warmth of it and lingering arousal in his belly. The invisible presence of Taako, so close in the dark, in his bed.

  
"Shit," Taako mutters, acidic and bleak. "Fuck."

  
"Hey," he repeats. He blinks, helpless again. He doesn't know what to say; knows nothing at all.

  
_That's not true._ He knows something happened, before Taako came here to his porch, to his home. His eyes are starting to adjust; when the elf moves a hand to rub at his face, he can almost detect the glints of wetness in the moonlight.

  
It has to be with the show. He tucks the inside of his lips under his front teeth, thinking.

  
Taako is thinking, too. The admission doesn't come out in words, but in a long sigh, and in how he seeks out Magnus' hand with his own and grabs it. His grip is gentle but worrying, the pad of his thumb drifting around each of his knuckles in a spiraling pattern.

  
His mouth feels too dry, his stomach rolling when he asks; "Did someone hurt you?"

  
He can see now as Taako's eyes squint shut, and his head shakes. Magnus' chest untightens in relief, though he fights to make the sigh of it inaudible.

  
"....Are you in danger?"

  
This time he mouths "No," or says it so quietly it can't be heard. His grip on Magnus' hand tightens, his face turned against the pillows.

  
Magnus takes a deep breath, and squeezes back in answer. _That's fine, then_. It's all he needs to know.

  
He comes in and bundles Taako against him a second time, bracing the back of his head, peppering kisses over the fuzz on his temple.

  
"I'm here," he tells him. "I'll protect you."

  
" _Oh_ ," is all Taako says. " _Oh_ , you dummy."

  
The last of his composure evaporates, and he buries himself there into the corner of Magnus' shoulder in order to muffle his hiccuping sobs. Magnus holds and shields him, trying to remember if he still knows how to do this.

  
He catches himself, wondering what _this_ is. He's never done this, not exactly. Not the larger this of being a harbor, or the more immediate _this_ , cradling someone to his shoulder while they cried.

  
_(If she cried, it was alone, or with no more touch than a palm to her shoulder. And if he strains to remember, he can still summon that awful moment from a dim, bloody morning like cracking a nut from its shell.)_

  
He hushes carefully, slowly unwinds the little ties holding the last of Taako's hair together. It gives him something to do besides think, and seems to calm him as he works all of his long hair free, until he can stroke his fingers through it continuously. Taako goes quiet, then still in his arms. He keeps up the motions, eventually reducing them to a thumb stroked carefully over the soft, short hair behind Taako's ear.

  
He's barely awake when a narrow hand works between their bodies, fussing fingers into the lacing of his tunic. He lets him fidget, relaxing towards sleep until his voice comes again, hoarse and quiet.

  
"...I love you."

  
He blinks aware. It's the first time he can remember him saying it like this. Close, whispered in the dark like a secret.

  
"I love you," he answers.

  
Taako falls asleep quickly, drained by the effort. But he remains awake some amount of time longer, thinking things he can't describe.

  
At some point he's conscious of the dog sneaking into the room and climbing to lay at their feet. He's almost witless to it, vaguely aware of something he needs to do. In the end, his weariness decides for him that like everything else, it can wait until morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A minor note that there's some liberties taken with the canon endgame and the character backstory of the wonderland elves, but once I got the idea of some certain headcanons way back in the day it was too hard to let them go without putting them in at least one fic. Hopefully they'll be illustrated enough in the prose that it won't be confusing.

 

 

His dreams that night are strange, though he doesn't fully remember them. When he wakes up, there's something more immediate to take his attention; the spot next to him on the bed is empty, with the covers still unmade.

He lurches upright, a panic settling in his chest. Before he knows why, he climbs stumbling out of bed, his legs carrying him down the hallway towards the front door.

This shouldn't have blindsided him-- he should have expected Taako to leave. But not so soon, he thinks to himself desperately. Not yet.

He can already see the rest of the day spent mourning in an empty, silent house. So when he gets to the living room, he feels doubly foolish at the sight of the wizard huddled in the far crook of the couch, the dog at his feet.

Taako looks at him, confused, and the moment hangs there.

"Hey," he offers.

"Hey," Magnus gives in answer. Then an understanding settles in along with the quiet. Magnus stands in the hallway, fighting to slow his heartrate.

"...G'morning," Taako mumbles, bowing his head towards his tea. "...Kettle's on the stove, if you want. Still hot."

_Oh._ He's not sure if he's more relieved than ashamed, or the other way around, or somehow both. He goes to make himself a cup while the last night hangs in the air.

_He's here_ , he reassures himself, pulling together the memories of the hill and cradling Taako to his chest. He's surprised to find how shaken he is, but maybe he shouldn't be; love had always made a bit of an idiot out of him.

_Talk to him, figure it out_.

The kitchen looks in better shape. He'd cleaned it as well as he could, but it looks like Taako had given it a second pass in the morning, including the last of the dishes in the sink and the toughest stains on the stovetop. The only evidence left is the pans of baked goods on the counter and bar; he considers taking another piece, but doesn't want to have the next conversation with his mouth full.

When he gets back to the couch, lingering energy floating in his belly, Taako is slowly stirring his cup with a clean spoon. Shadow sleeps under the bridge of his legs, as he rests his feet on the coffee table. The elf looks up to greet him, and even turns to face him as he sits.

Magnus finds himself completely untethered, after the last few hours. Taako doesn't look untethered-- he looks anchored under a great weight, deflated. Almost sick. But somehow calm, or the grand illusion of it.

"Maggie," Taako starts. His voice is light, reassuring and casual. But for the first time, he sees hints of a bone-deep tiredness soaked all the way to the surface of him. "...I'm sorry for last night."

He isn't sure what to make of this. "It's alright," he mutters. He's back to just needing answers, or at least whatever Taako is going to offer in their stead. "...Are you okay?"

Taako nods, staring at the floor. He hangs like cut ropes, or discarded clothes, still slowly stirring his tea. "...This last month's been a circus, you know...? But I didn't mean to bring it here like that."

He turns his own mug in his hands, to displace the heat. "...Do you want to talk about it?"

Taako shakes his head, a blunt refusal despite the lack of energy in it. It's not anything he hadn't expected, though some dumb, hungry part of him still finds the nerve to feel deprived. He eases it back down.

_You're not going to argue him into that. Just ask._

But he doesn't ask, because his nerves aren't there yet. So all he has to go on is the elf's posture, his weary smile.

If it were anyone else, that smile might convince him. Maybe it does a little to tug his imagination away from the cusp of disaster, along with the promises that he wasn't in danger.  But it's not just anyone sitting here; It's Taako, and this is a look on him he hasn't seen before.

Last night, the defenses had come down on accident. The way Taako takes the bump on his pride and carries on with the ruse with the very last scraps of his energy, as if begging him not to mention it, makes everything suddenly clear. Magnus swallows the lump in his throat.

"...It's fine," Taako repeats. "I'd tell you if it wasn't. If I wasn't."

"You scared the shit out of me," he admits. Taako's composure flickers just long enough to make him worry he'd gone too far, but then quickly regains.

"...I'm sorry," he repeats. He rests his hand to Magnus' arm and pulls his painted nails gently across wiry hair and dark skin, like a timid invitation, something Taako doesn't know how to say in words. "I mean that, Maggie."

Then his expression turns dark, focused somewhere distant. "...I know it looks bad, but I don't want you to worry about it. Nothin' ol Taako can't handle."

Maybe he shouldn't be reassured with everything so obviously wrong with last night, the night before and right now. But he is; it's a reminder that Taako hadn't gotten this far in his life on accident. That not everything good dangles infront of the wolf.

_Still_. "I like worrying about you."

Taako shakes his head. "No..." he withdraws his arm, hides momentarily behind a sip of his tea. "...I mean-- Magnus, look at this place."

He does. The kitchen, the beams in the roof, the personal items slowly cluttering the various shelves and surfaces. Empty in many ways still, but not in a sad way. Every wall and floorboard something he'd once dreamed up on a quiet evening after the end of the world.

He thinks he catches a glimpse of it through Taako's eyes for the first time, and goes quiet, a little humbled.

"...It's nice."

"Maggie, It's perfect," he scoffs. A note of laughter in his voice, incredulous. "After all that shit, all we went through. All that bad, and you go and-- ...it's like it just springs up out of the ground around you. It's like you breathe it," he continues, exhaling the word. He shakes his head then, hides behind his mug agian. "I don't know how you do it. But I'm glad."

He'd never thought of it that way. And he's trying not to get distracted, but the thought is new and soothes the disappointment he's had in himself, somehow.

It's subtle, but Magnus can feel control slipping back into Taako's corner, and isn't sure he should mind. This isn't something he wants to get through tug-of-war, anyway.

"I'm not like you," Taako says. Nothing but a dull, straightforward admission. "...I've made mistakes, hun. Messed up a lot of good things. But this--," Taako continues, fidgeting just his nails over the edge of his cup, and Magnus can see the words die in his mouth. Taako, for all his age, struggling through a conversation he's apparently never had before.  "...You're doing so fucking good up here, and that's all I want for you. The last thing you need is for me to show up in your home and complicate it with my..." he waves a hand towards himself, vaguely, blinking as if in disbelief. "Taako-ness."

"You could never," he offers, and means it. But immediately sees some of the ways that it's true, even if it's not exactly in the way Taako means. And then he feels guilty for harboring information. _You know he's safe now, so when are you going to say it?_

"What I'm saying is I wanna be your fun, sexy boyfriend that you absolutely adore, who lavishes you in attention. Not the maniac elf that ruins your kitchen," Taako jests, gently shoving his shoulder. "And then that's just what I go and do. So typical."

He can't help but smile even if he knows what this is. "You can be both."

" _Yeah, yeah_ ," he teases back. "...I know rushing in is your thing, babe, but just... let me handle this one. Please."

Well, that's not entirely off the mark. He looks down at his tea and shrugs. "...It's not like you owe me anything, Taako. But I still think of us as a team. I want you to know I'm here for you."

He thinks he sees a brief wilting in Taako's eyes. The hand that playfully pushed him rubs at his arm instead, while his shoulders heave in a little sigh. "...I know, hun. Just... I'm getting a little tired of leaving places worse than I found them."

That pangs somewhere. If he dared, he could say something about leaving a town in rubble that used to tower. He doesn't. He corners that guilt back down to where it lives.

"...So, things are rough at work?" He offers, instead. Taako chills, but nods quietly, and he doesn't dare probe further than that.

_I don't believe him, but I trust him_ , he realizes. Maybe he shouldn't be playing this game, not if he wants to do this right. But he can't do it right anyway by putting it off, which is what he's doing now. He turns his mug in his own hands, wondering how to make his own confessions.

"And I don't want to bring Goldcliff here, good or bad. It's best as far away from you as possible."

Magnus raises an eyebrow, hesitant. "It's that bad?"

"It's the _worst_ ," Taako laments, looking genuinely bitter before another sip of tea. "A problem factory."

He even chuckles, still groundless, but in a way he thinks Taako might feel groundless. They're old enough, wise enough, that maybe groundless isn't so bad.

"You really can talk to me, if you want."

Taako waves a hand. "Naaah. You don't need my crazy, bub."

"Okay." He privately admits that might be right, at least for the moment. He reaches out finally, rubbing his palm along one of Taako's calves. "As long as you're okay, that's what's important to me."

"Sweetheart," Taako chides, like it's a teasing little barb. But then he comes in, finding the place under Magnus' arm and burrowing into it, heaving out a long sigh, comforting him more than he can know. "...how'd I luck out with you, huh?"

He gladly bundles him closer, relieved a second time at his presence. "Well, you signed a weird contract on the moon."

He hums thoughtfully, but doesn't have a response. They sit in the quiet together, warm, Magnus watching him as he slowly unwinds. For the first time, he's aware of the pattering rain as it comes down on the windows.

_He's telling me all he can bear to_ , Magnus knows. And he thinks this, too, is a kind of confession; the way Taako has found his way to his side and made himself small, in the ways Taako is never small. When he lifts a thumb to brush against the tip of one ear, Taako smiles, and his eyes remained closed.

He doesn't want to disturb this, but he has to know. "You're staying today?"

Taako blinks awake. "Yeah. Weather's kinda lousy." Then Magnus feels him shift, moving to sit up. "Unless that's a hint..."

"No, no," he corrects. "...I, uh, do have to open the shop."

He's expecting an order to come in, not to mention the repairs waiting in the back. Taako answers in more silence, seeming to grow heavier against the couch. His eyes are trained on the grey of the windows, and he wonders if that means something-- is he nervous to go into town?

"...You can stay here, if you'd like. Keep Shadow company."

It seems as if he considers it, glancing across the room. Being alone doesn't seem to appeal to him, either.

"Or you could come with."

"I don't want to impose," he defends.

"It's fine." And unable to hold himself back anymore, he leans forward, planting a kiss to his temple. "I'd like you to come."

Taako takes both of the invitations, rolling closer, sliding one thigh over Magnus' lap. At first he hesitates, the shaking of Taako's hands and voice fresh in his mind. But this is different. Taako's search for intimacy is easy and familiar, and as soon as their mouths are together he's soothed.

They don't have time for much. He isn't sure Taako wants anything more than to meet their chests and soak away warmth for a moment. But when they part, something is different without them having said anything at all-- the way Taako looks at him, without any pretenses. The way the room feels with the two of them in it. It feels right. Like home.

It passes simply. Taako lifts his stare over the back of the couch, sighing. Magnus follows him, realizing he's looking at the desserts littered across the bar.

"I'll pay you back for ingredients," he promises. And then, a little shy; "...What are you going to do with it all?"

He has to think about it. "...We can give some to the neighbors, maybe? They're right on the way."

Taako gives a tired laugh, patting Magnus' shoulder as he stands. "Making good impressions, then, are we?"

"They'll love you for it."

 

\---

 

They end up taking the stage coach into town, to shield them from the rain and to carry the halves of the baked goods. Taako hooks the cows up expertly, Magnus and Shadow watching from the side of the road.

"We gotta get you a proper wagon," the elf notes. "Y'know, for deliveries. Getting stuff around in bad weather."

Magnus privately savors the we. It's nice, in the same way it's nice to drive the cart with the wizard perched on the back of the seat, the dog beside them. It feels wonderfully, victoriously normal.

Taako opts to stay in the wagon and out of the fine rain when he delivers the goods to his closest neighbors. A halfling woman with short, brown hair opens the door, grinning immediately in surprise.

"Oh my, Burnsides." She eyes the two trays stacked on his arm. "On what occasion?"

"I had a guest yesterday," he explains, gesturing to the coach parked on the road. Even from here, Taako can be seen curled under the rainshield, one of his hands buried in the dog's fur. "He's a bit of a chef, and we ended up with extra..."

"Well Yondalla bless you," she answers, helping the trays off of his hands. She draws back into the doorway, to get herself and the cloth coverings out of the weather. The fine mist only now starts to make his shirt feel damp; he's cooled by it, maybe even invigorated.

"I'm glad to see you've had some company," she notes. And if he's not wrong, there's a knowing amusement in her tone. Not unwholesome, but enough that his face warms anyway.

She asks briefly about things in the way neighbors do, but lets him go before he has to stand too much longer in the rain, closing her door with a wave towards the wagon. As he climbs back on and sets them back down the road, Taako slings an arm over his shoulders and comes down to his side.

"Are you going to be the town gossip for the next week?" He jests, close enough in Magnus' ear that he can hear him over the sound of the wheels.

"We might be," he answers. He can somehow feel Taako's smile without looking.

"Good," he says. "Want everybody to know I got ya first."

He's realizing, slowly, how _wanted_ he feels. How he could stand to feel that way for a long, long time.

The day spent in town passes quickly. Taako stays in the back of the shop, with the dog, minding himself with a book or browsing the various projects strewn about the workbench. Magnus tends to the customers and carefully sketches blueprints in between, feeling his presence like a glowing warmth at his back, like a hearth or sunlight.

"Anyplace here serve coffee?" He asks, an hour before lunch. Magnus gives him directions and a few silver from the register; Taako promises to pay him back, but leaves him with a kiss on the cheek that makes him feel as if he already has.

It's afternoon when he takes his longest break, and the caffeine hasn't been enough to stop Taako from making use of the narrow bed tucked under the north-facing window.

Magnus helps himself down beside the wizard, in the little space left unoccupied by his feet or the dog curled beside them. Taako blinks aware, and beckons him down; he takes the spot by the wall and nestles them together in a patch of tentative mid-day sunlight.

"What's this doing here," Taako mutters sleepily, patting the edge of the frame. He's reluctant to even move, soaking in the moment.

"Slept here for a few months while the house was going up," he explains. "...Don't you remember?"

"That was here?" Taako whispers, like it's a secret. "Don't recognize it in the daytime."

They'd crashed here one visit after a night of drinks, and he'd listened to the last of Taako's stories in candlelight. Life had felt like a floating, intermittent dream after everything. Bit by bit he was stealing the real of it back, in moments like these that feel like they could be the rest of his life. The whole rest of it for as long as he'd lived, and he'd want for nothing more.

 

\---

 

When they get home, Taako hangs there in the living room. Outside the sun is sinking, the sky growing darker as the thick of the rainstorm approaches.

"I should start getting ready..." he says, trailing off. And right away, there's something in his eyes that tells Magnus he regrets saying it.

He's long past having made his decision. He comes up, bundles Taako in an arm, kisses his forehead.

"It's okay," he mutters, quiet. Taako blinks, a look of quiet acceptance. Whatever it is, it's banished in a moment, and he comes in to put a deep, slow breath at Magnus' chest. And that's all.

They don't say anything-- not about it, anyway. They make dinner, they sit on the couch in front of a movie, and Magnus soaks in the closeness. Taako makes no move to pack or to leave, no explanation. And for the first hour, a tension seems to rest in his shoulders, like he's trying to make up his mind one way or another.

Magnus doesn't pry, bringing out his carving to work in the living room. Another hour passes, and another, and he's sure that Taako is staying at least for the night.

He knows they can't do this forever-- he's sure he'd get frustrated by it eventually. But for now he gives Taako his time. He loves him more than enough to give him that, to respect Taako's grip on the reigns of his own life. After their talk, he finds he's not even worried by the secrecy. It's hard to be, with him so near.

He's deep into his work, meditative and peaceful when the knock comes at the door.

Taako goes rigid. His ears drop and his expression sterns, and Magnus lowers his own tools down to the table to prepare himself. Once again his imagination provides the worst, thinking of his axe and sheild.

"I'm not here," Taako hisses, scrabbling up from his seat and hurrying towards the back hallway, faster than Magnus can interrupt as he stands from the couch. He looks between the hallway and the door, debating either direction until a knock comes a second time.

He fortifies himself, putting on a scowl just in case. He takes the knob, twists, and pulls...

When he opens it into the night, the first thing he sees are the bright headlights of an autocart-- rare to see, this far out of the urban centers. They rake in beams across raindrops over the lawn, and in front of them on his porch stands a tall, broad elf he recognizes.

He squints. "...Lydia?"

She taps ash from her cigarette, looking up to acknowledge him. She seems different, now; more somber, less maniacal. He supposes anyone would, after what had happened.

Taako's old contemporaries from the stagecoach circuit had been different before the bell, from what had been explained to him. The trio of siblings had been a punch-and-judy style comedy troupe, but had struggled to pull in the crowds-- when their brother had died, they'd apparently sought the bell to resurrect him, and had fallen to its thrall in the process.

_An evil magical artifact is one way to fill seats,_ he remembers Taako saying. _They always did want to take shortcuts._

The reset of the time loop had undone her time with the relic, but none of the memories of those who had interacted with the items themselves. And she'd had it for years. She seems stern, focused, and he knows recollection of those years sits somewhere deep behind her sharp eyes.

"Well. I'm suprrised you actually opened the door."

He isn't sure what to think. He follows his gut instinct, which is to stiffen up, step across the threshold and put himself there between her and the door, which he closes slightly behind him. She notices, sighs, and extinguishes her cigarette on what he worries is his porch rail. Looking closer, it seems to be a small stone box for the express purpose.

"What are you doing here," He asks. She gives him a look, one he's sure he's supposed to interpret as, _what kind of question is that._

"I'm looking for Taako."

"Haven't seen him," he replies gruffly, arms folded. Not a good bluff-- never, he's not a good liar. But hopefully it's an explicit enough answer. She studies him for a bit, painted eyes darting from behind her colored glasses.

"I only want to talk to him, Magnus."

"Then you better go find him." He stays there, admittedly a little nervous. He doesn't fully blame her, exactly. But he can't help but remember the horror of that day-- cold wood where flesh should be. Voice without breath, without a mouth....

He's hoping she'll take his refusal and go, and that will be that.

_This isn't doing him a favor_ , he gets the sense. Maybe he's being a little selfish, defending his nice full home from what he's increasingly suspecting is some sort of....

"Did he tell you he ran away from set?" She asks. It does stun him, a little. He'd expect her to remain chilly, but she looks to the ground, taps the toe of her boot idly as if avoiding the look on his face. "I know you don't like me--"

"I don't--"

"And I'm sorry for what I've done. Every moment." She looks at him now, very serious, nearly piercing. This strange woman he barely knows, not the _real_ one anyway, that Taako has been gallivanting around with for the past few months as the show precipitated out of a few rapid inventions and a handful of investors. "You have to know that."

"...I do."

"It's not about that anyway," she explains. "We're both here for him."

He finally drops his arms, curiosity getting the better of him-- feeling so far away from this strange world out in the mesas, and mistake or not, ready to take answers where he can get them. Even from her. "What happened?"

Another tortured exhale. "I don't know everything. He was fine up until last morning, then he left during his ten."

He squints, at that. "Left?"

"Well, he broke a window," she adds. "In the staff bathroom."

"...Shit," he hisses, moving his palms to his hips. His mind reels a little, struggling with it. With being so out of his depth in Taako, despite how close they'd grown, and feeling that familiar sensation of grasping, trying to get purchase in the corners of a person.

Mostly, he worries for Taako's sake about the obvious things. Lydia seems to sense that, putting away her glasses and smokebox. "Well, are you going to let me inside?"

Hesitant, he sighs in defeat, and opens the door.

 

\---

 

The three of them, Lydia, Taako and himself, sit in the space by the kitchen. He and Taako on distant dinner chairs, herself on one of the bar stools while she explains.

"I told them you got a stomach flu, and gave you a day before I started looking," she tells. "In case you decided to show up."

Taako flinches, at that. Magnus doesn't dare sit too close, feeling like a gravity well sits around the wizard, like his thoughts are thick and heavy enough to touch. He rests his head against his fingertips with his face turned down, hiding his eyes in the drape of his hair. Magnus stares for a while, waiting for something, but eventually looks to his own feet.

Shadow sits under his chair, eyeing the ex-lich suspiciously; she'd had to be coaxed down from growling a moment ago with scraps from dinner.

"When you didn't, I thought you'd either have gone to Ren's, or... here," she gestures. Magnus tenses.

"How do you know where I live?" he asks. Lydia seems puzzled, then look to Taako, who wilts futher.

"...I gave her your address," he confesses, mumbled low and stern. He suddenly feels a little chill in his belly.

" _What_?"

"In case of emergencies, so we could contact you." She explains. Then she nods to Taako's seat, flicking a gesturing hand. "...or him. He's here a lot."

There's an eerie silence while the clock ticks. Taako sniffs, wrings his hands, lifting his face enough that Magnus can see the wetness threatening around his eyes again. He isn't sure how to feel-- it wasn't a betrayal, exactly. It's a reasonable enough thing to do in a regular job, and he realizes suddenly, and a little horribly, that as far as _emergency contacts_ go Taako wasn't in possession of many other options.

It's dawning on him slowly what this all _was_. He looks to his own hands, touching his own knuckles, his empty and naked fingers.

Taako starts "I didn't realize--"

"It's fine," he says back. Trying to sound gentle, sincere. Taako pauses, then acknowledges it in a little nod that hits Magnus right in his gut, in a place where he's so tender for him, and raw, and hungry.

It's all he can do not to lurch across the space and try to kiss it better. _I'm so sorry, Taako_.

"...So," Taako sniffs again, straightens his back, and Magnus can see him trying to pull his battered pride together into a scaffolding around him. "What are you here for?"

She blinks. "...Diana moved the schedule forward, swapped these last few days with the weekend," she explains, as if it were obvious. "If we're back by tomorrow morning, everything's on track again."

The elf scoffs, folding away. Magnus can see it starting to boil, a defensiveness in the elf's posture. He nervously sits there, not knowing how to intervene. _Don't push him...._

"That's a good one, Lyddie." he claps his hands together once, sinking back against his seat. "Had me going there."

She doesn't react beyond a stare of gentle incredulity, but she's been working with him for some time, so he's sure it's slightly put-on; he watches them bounce the energy back and forth. "There are five weeks left. We have a contract, Taako-- it's not too late. We still have everything we worked for."

"It's over, Lydia." he interrupts. Dark and heavy where he rests on his seat, bitter, tired, and more hopeless than Magnus has ever seen him, not even in that dark, painful place where the three of them had met before. She doesn't seem surprised, but still leans into it; the mass of her, her height and her intensity perched there on the stool, she still has a sort of presence that calls their attention-- his own and even Taako's, which isn't easy to do.

"I know it's been hard," she begins. Without looking, he can hear Taako's initial frigid reaction, then the sigh as he rolls his eyes-- "I _understand_. If you just--"

"I'm not doing this," he mutters, lifting his hands-- he stands from his chair and marches back towards the hall, retreating, with the dog quickly trotting after. Magnus and her stand after, but the two of them both seem unable to follow completely-- Taako's refusal hangs in the air, and neither of them had missed the waver in his voice.

An awkward silence follows. Magnus eventually turns to her, watching her posture. She looks wounded for the first time, in her own way-- gutted, but the look in her eyes says it's something she might be used to.

Magnus feels the ache in his own stomach from a distance, thrown into the middle of all this. He awkwardly brushes his arm, holds it by a palm to his side.

"I guess that's it then," she admits, lifting her bag from the bar. Instinct finally forces him to move and Magnus stops her, lifting a gesturing hand.

"Let me talk to him," he offers. Not that he has a plan, yet. But he can't leave things like this, not without trying.

Lydia gives him a look. An odd one, like she doesn't know what to make of him. But not bad.

"Fine," she says quietly. "I'll wait for an hour."

 

\---

 

When he walks into the bedroom, he finds Taako curled at the headboard. Shadow lays with her head over his feet, her eyes focused on the doorway. One of Taako's manicured hands scratches idle and gentle into her ruff.

He decides not to say anything just yet. He goes to settle on the side of the bed, where he just sits, close enough to reach out-- though he doesn't. He doesn't stare, either, though he can tell Taako's eyes are wet even if his expression isn't fraught or afraid. There's something else in how he crumples there, staring forward, defeated.

Taako tenses in the silence, until he finally speaks. A muttered, "I'm not doing it."

Magnus rubs his arm, but stays quiet a moment longer. He debates what he wants to say, knowing what the reaction will be.

"...Taako--"

"Don't," Taako warns, a refusal like a row of teeth. Guarding himself with the last, ugliest parts of him, keeping this desperately at a distance.

He knows what this is. _He's just ashamed, and he can't bear it._

So it shouldn't sting, and he shouldn't be angry. He isn't, couldn't be. But something not _quite_ like anger still boils in him, the same tension of the last few days at a singing height like a kettle finally building to a scream. Magnus worries his hands together, focused on the dull pain settled in his throat, at this sudden exhaustion with himself.

_I can't do this any longer,_ he realizes. Can't stand outside of somebody's world, only taking what they give. Even if it's done out of love. Or, more honestly, loneliness.

They'd been doing the same thing. Running away. Wanting somewhere to hide. Two in a pair, which could almost make him laugh if it were the time. But if he wants this-- and he wants this, more badly than he can say, more badly than he remembers wanting anything; if he's being honest, _yes, anything_ \-- he knows he can't put it off.

He turns to Taako, and somehow knows what to do.

Magnus offers up both palms, face-up an open like an offering, or a prayer. Taako watches them with softening eyes, the simplicity of the gesture impossibly potent against the convolution of everything else.

"Trust me," he asks. "Please." With an unspoken, _I need this. I need_ you _._

It takes a moment. But only that. Taako's hands seek out of his space and rest in Magnus' own. Like a bird landing. It happens fast, dizzyingly fast, and Magnus holds him like cradling the stems of plants. But it does happen, a boundary crossed and a weight lifted.

"Okay," Taako mutters. Very quiet, small, like his confessions always are. The sound of a wall that large coming down should be like thunder, but here in this room it's barely a whisper. "Okay."

"Talk to me," he asks again. His whole body focused on this, on the small space where they touch.

Taako takes his time. He swallows once, steadying his voice. Outside, the rain picks up, pattering on the window, and beside them the dog gives a worried sigh. In the quiet, Magnus focuses on his hands, on the one spot where Taako's nailpolish has chipped.

"...I thought I could do it," he starts. "...It was going alright, for a while. I was alright."

He stares ahead at his feet while he speaks, sinking like the telling of it takes all of his energy. "They made.... so many accommodations, for me. So many precautions." He says it like a bad word, like something that's left a stain on him. He lifts slightly, looking Magnus in the eye and growing more insistent; "Nobody ate the food, _ever_. Background checks on all the staff, security. Every expense."

He folds back to the bedframe. "Guess it wasn't enough, though," he says, shaking his head. That alone is enough that Magnus feels a cold pull in his middle, trying to imagine it.

There's nothing he can say, not yet. Taako continues, numbly. "...it's different than the road, y'know? ...No long mornings, no time between towns. Hot stagelights. Meetings, production," he explains, his voice growing taught. He gestures with an open, flat hand; "...I don't know what happened. But I'd wake up, wishing I were anywhere else. And it got worse, and worse, and I kept thinking-- this is _nothing_ . You _wanted_ this, so, you can do it."

In the end his hand drops, and his shoulders roll helplessly. Magnus feels the weight of that admission, letting everything of the last few weeks fall into clarity.

"Couldn't, though," he says. "So I ran."

His mouth is hollow, so instead he runs his thumbs over Taako's hands. It's nothing at all, but somehow enough to pull Taako a little further along.

"Something just broke," he confesses. "Couldn't sleep, couldn't wake up."

Magnus tightens his grip, and speaks for the first time. "...Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Taako scoffs, a weak little jump of his shoulders. "...Magnus, what are you supposed to think about me when I'm like this?" he asks, gesturing. To himself, to the room, symbolizing everything.

"Taako," he breathes out. Not shocked, or appalled, or any other feeling he has words for, though Taako does look a little admonished. He struggles out his rebuttal; "...The show doesn't have _anything to do_ with how I think about you."

Taako seems to ease, at that. So he continues. "You saved the world. You saved my _life_. You don't have anything to prove to me."

"I did," he admits. "...So why is this so fucking hard?"

Magnus stills, admitting he's reached his depths. "I don't know," he answers. He's not so naive to think this is his to fix. All he wants is to be there, this need to be _there,_ with him. A need finally met.

He gives it a while to settle. Taako eventually relaxes, and when he withdraws his hands, Magnus lets him go. He knows after this, it's not up to him.

"What do you want to do," he asks. Taako coils, bundling his knees up into his arms.

"Tell her to leave," Taako suggests. For a moment, he considers it, then shakes his head.

"I can't do that for you," he answers. Taako does give him a look, but one of understanding, like they both know why that makes sense. "...She's trying to help you."

"I know," he admits. Looking remorseful. And for the first time, Magnus realizes he's successfully on the other side of a boundary, and tries not to fall into wondering at it when he needs to stay here, in this moment. "...But I shouldn't _need_ this. There are so many other people who wouldn't need this."

"There is nobody in the world like that," he tells him.

It seems to resonate. Taako's defensiveness has fully melted into remorse, into a tired honesty, deflated of pride or energy. And as big as the moment is, he's not exactly happy for it-- to see Taako lain low, when he's seen him before at his brightest, glowing, indomitable.

He's already wondering what to do, when the elf budges from his spot by the headboard to move towards him; Magnus moves up to sit by him, opening his arms and letting the wizard curl up along his front.

Distantly, he's aware of Lydia's one-hour time limit. But he's not worried. Or he's a little indulgent, letting the two of them sit in this space, in each other, a little quiet moment here in the world they'd stopped from ending.

"This is where I feel safe," he explains, tapping right to the sternum of Magnus' chest, folding like he intends to root himself there. "...Goldcliff is big, empty.... but everything's warm here."

He burrows down, one of his ears lain flat over Magnus' collar. "...Y'know, a part of me never wants to leave. Just have this all the time. Go into hiding, do your cooking 'n cleaning or something," he jokes, a tired little joke.

_You wouldn't be happy that way_ , he knows. As much as he wants to offer himself up as a permanent refuge, he knows better. Better than to push, or to indulge in the urge to wrap him up and hold him close to where it aches. He's not a poultice to press over a wound, he acknowledges bitterly.  

"You'll still have me," he tells him. "Even if I'm out here."

Taako agrees in a simple sigh, coming in and out. They sit there together in the quiet, the warmth.

"I don't know what to do," Taako admits. He isn't sure if he knows anything better. He can't recommend Goldcliff, but he'll admit to its importance in Taako's mind-- in his life.

"....Do you want to go back?"

Taako hesitates, but energy coils in his shoulders, the same kind that had brewed in his eyes on that day he got the gig-- in a way that says _yes_ more than _no_. He wipes his eyes again, but calmer, seeming to have regained more of himself. "I dunno, kid. I fucked it up pretty bad."

"But not all the way," he reminds him, thinking of Lydia out in the entry room. "...She gave you a shot. You can still try."

Taako considers it. For a moment he sees that confidence back, a little ease in his eyes. "...What if I go back, and it happens again?"

"Then you quit, and you come back home," he says. "And I'll be here."

He separates them, taking Taako's shoulders in his hands. “...And I know you. You'll want to have given it everything you have, taken every chance. You'll want to know you tried."

Taako gives one, quiet exhale of laughter. Then he looks back up, steadying himself.

"....You're awful nice to me."

He just smiles. A little bashful, maybe-- still feeling young, to be going through this again.

Taako eases himself back down onto one of his shoulders, relaxing and closing his eyes.

"Just a few more minutes," he explains. And Magnus can give him that. He puts his arms around him, and the two of them stay there for a few moments longer in the warmth of the room, in this moment between moments.

Finally he moves again, sitting up. And Magnus knows he's made his decision.

"I'm gonna miss you, babe."

 

\---

 

After helping pack some of his belongings, they return to the living room. Lydia looks up from the bar, where she had been eyeing the assortment of lillies in its enchanted vase. The first genuine surprise he's seen from her is on her face when she spies Taako at his side.

"Welp," he opens, nonchalantly. "We doing this or what?"

Lydia glances at him, confused, impressed or some mixture of both. Her own, reserved kind of stunned, she rises from her seat and slings her own bag over her shoulder, fishing her keys from her pocket.

She seems unwilling to question it, or at least doesn't have any purposeful way to do so. Magnus moves close to Taako's side, tapping his arm discreetly. When he has his attention, he gives a subtle gesture, but one the elf immediately understands, and deflates somewhat upon understanding.

He turns to her, meeting her halfway to the door.

"...Hey, Lydia," Taako offers. "...I, uh."

They both watch as the wizard struggles, taps his boots to the wood floor, searches for words. The ones he means to say never quite make it out, but in a moment he looks up to her and asks;

"Why are you doing this for me?” And then he fidgets in the silence, struggling to come down from has to posture himself, has to, as a matter of survival-- "...It's just, I've been a total pain in the ass."

She looks between them. Then to Taako, her expressions serious, but not cold. “...Because you gave me a second chance.”

Magnus remains on the boundaries of it, this exchange they have, and watches Taako ease back into a sort of calm. Processing her words, nodding slowly as he stares into the floor.

“I know things have happened to you.” She says. “I know that's going to make it harder. But harder isn't impossible-- It's just hard.”

"Yeah," he agrees. A waver is back in his voice, but only a hint of one. A different emotion than terror, or shame, or rage. "Yeah."

Lydia adjust her bag, fiddles her keys in her hand. "If you're ready, we should leave soon enough to sleep before morning."

"Right," he agrees. "Well, let's go make the biggest mistake of your career."

Magnus follows them to just outside, where the rain has slowed and the night is damp and cool. He hangs there in the doorway, watching the two of them start down the porch steps.

Over his shoulder, he spies the vase of flowers again, bright and colorful. As if seeing it play before his eyes, he remembers the longing that had made him buy them in the first place. His revelation on the hill, and his needing, and the things he discovers he's held back even now.

_Burnsides_ , comes a little nagging voice. Something in him twists like it's waking up, and he follows them down the steps into the night.

"Wait," Magnus asks, and when their eyes land on him tries not to feel too self-conscious at the little pang that had made him call out. He holds onto Taako's eyes, then, and hopes he isn't being too transparent. "...Can I talk with you really quick?"

The two of them hang there, and Taako lowers his bag to the grass. "Yeah, stud. What's up?"

"...I'll be in the car," Lydia suggests, seemingly able to sense the nature of the exchange. She picks up his bag for him and lifts it up onto a shoulder, disappearing into the bright beams of the headlights.

Then it's just the two of them, as Taako comes up to meet him. The sound of the rain comes down around them, giving them some privacy.

He fights for words, as shy as he's ever been. Eventually, they rush out of his mouth; "Maybe I could come visit you?"

Taako's eyes light up, clear even in the dark. "What?"

"I could put some things together over the next few days," he offers, explaining. "Come and see you." He pauses then, suddenly unsure. "if it would help."

Taako blinks, and his grip tightens gently. There's a disbelief as well as a humility, as if it was something so obvious, too obvious to ask for. "You'd do that?"

"I know you'd do the same for me," he says. And he does know it. When he smiles, Taako smiles back, and that same tenderness overcomes him, pulsing in his chest one more, insistent time. "And, there's something else..."

Taako stares up at him, anticipating. In the end he flounders, but not in the worst way. He has excuses, like _Taako needs to focus on this_ and _There will be time_. And really, it's just that his heart flutters and skips like a stone off of water, and he still can't quite manage it. But the truth is, he does have time. And he's not worried. Like he'd said; when Taako comes home, he will be there waiting.

“...We can talk about it when you come back.”

"Oh boy," Taako jests. "Something bad?"

"No," he laughs. And leans down for a kiss, a peck on his cheek. "Go on. I'll come after you."

"Promise?" he asks, like it's a joke. It's not, though, not in the way their hands link together and briefly squeeze.

"Promise."

“...Okay,” he answers. Then he comes in, wrapping his arms quickly around Magnus' torso, tugging him into a close hug that he reciprocates with all of the love fighting its way out of his heart. Waves, and waves and waves of it, a thing so beautiful to feel he isn't sure why he was ever so afraid.

Taako peels away after a while, walking towards the car.

He's nearly there when he pivots, turns, and races back-- Magnus braces himself for a second embrace, thrown around his shoulders, and catches him-- the elf's breath hurries out of his chest before he speaks.

“You know what we said, about this thing being casual?” he pants, hurrying. Lowering his hands to grip them back together again, tight and insistent. A look of urgency on his face, almost but not quite panic. “...I mean. It's probably obvious, but I don't think of it that way anymore. I mean-- it's more than that.” He stares, waiting, as the rain falls down onto their heads. “Is that okay?”

He smiles-- laughs even, breathless. So happy, but somehow wanting to cry.

“Yeah,” he says. Running his own thumb softly across Taako's knuckles, brushing away raindrops that had fallen there. "Yeah, it's okay."

“I love you,” Taako blurts quickly. Not graceful, but raw and genuine. "...I want you to know that. I don't want to only say it when I'm scared."

“I love you too,” he says, feeling it like the first time. And he pulls him back in again, close enough to seal one last kiss that the two of them lean into. Just for the moment ignoring rain, or cold, or time.

"I'll call this time." Taako says, and finally lets go. There's a brightness back in his eyes, a knife's edge of hope glinting out of him as he turns back and jogs towards the car, cupping a hand around his voice. Past him Lydia sits in the driver's side door, and moves to open the one opposite to her when she sees him near.

“Get me out of here before I change my mind!”

Magnus stays, watching as Taako disappears into the autocart. Lydia pulls around in the dirt road and, and soon they become two receding red lights floating down the hill, until it's far away and small enough to vanish on one of the inclines. He stays even longer, long enough for the rain to damp his shirt to his shoulders, and the chill to bump his skin, though a warm glow stays in his chest all the same.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some parts of this fic were stronger than others, but I'm so glad to have it completed. During a time when it felt like I wasn't able to get anything else off of my to-do list, this finally came together! Thank you everybody for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and that the ending was worth the wait.
> 
> (Since someone asked, links to the rest of my Anonymously posted taz works;)  
> "[Emergency First Aid in the Pocket Workshop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877232)" / "[Emergency Consolation in the Pocket Spa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477089)"  
> "[your head is good, it's loyal, it's clean](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634838)"  
> "[A soft place to fall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9802604)" / "[Pisces and the Knife](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13129800)" / [Atlas in Mourning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13080792)"  
> And the ones in this timeline; "[The end of the world does come and go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11231763/chapters/25099461)" / "[Page of Cups, Reversed (explicit)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11773143)"


End file.
